Long Hard Road Out Of Texas
by IceonFire7
Summary: This continues my story New Vegas and will go through the rest of the season. Episodes are incorporated along with my own thoughts. I'm a Charlie/Monroe fan, so this concentrates mainly on them and their thoughts as they go through this journey both together and separately. Others may come into play at times.
1. Chapter 1

I originally had more of this ready to go, but after Wednesday's episode, I've got to rework a few things. Should have more of this up in a few days. Some content here will be taken from my other stories It's Good To Be King and New Vegas, and since they don't completely follow canon, it helps to read those first.

I do not own anything from Revolution, but I'd take David Lyons

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It was driving him crazy.

He didn't know the answer to the question, and it was slowly driving him crazy. For a man prone to going bat-shit crazy at the drop of a hat, this was a really bad thing. He desperately needed to know.

Thinking back to the time spent in the cage with his son, Monroe remembered all the things they'd discussed. Walls had broken down a little when they realized one of them might never leave. He'd finally come clean about Emma and the role he played in her death; he'd told Connor about his blind spot, the weakness he kept hidden from everyone; they'd even talked a little about Connor's childhood, Monroe's parents, and the young girls who would have been his aunts.

And Charlie.

Well, not directly about her. More about the people and families he'd hurt. Which, in turn, led his thoughts right back to Charlie. What other family had he destroyed more than the Mathesons? The one family he truly did not want to hurt. The one woman he wished he could take all the suffering back for.

He'd been honest with Connor when he told him he wanted the Republic back to make up for all the bad things he'd done; to truly make it better this time. He'd been honest when he told him to find a girl, fall in love, start a family. He'd even been honest when he told him to find someone other than Charlie.

There were good reasons for warning his son away from her. His history with the Matheson family screwed up any chances of Connor ever really being accepted among them. The kid deserved a woman who could love him with all of her heart, and he honestly wasn't sure if Charlie could ever really do that with his son. But the real reason behind him pushing Connor away wasn't entirely noble.

Flat out, he loved her. And as hopeless and futile as it was, he wanted her himself.

Now, here it was a week later, and he was dying to know the answer to one question. Was she still sleeping with Connor?

He was going to come right out and ask. But not his son; he was going to ask Charlie. He had no reasoning behind it, both could lie right to his face if they wanted, but he wanted her reaction. And they hadn't really spoken since their argument in New Vegas. He was dying just to talk to her.

They were getting closer to Willoughby, so he called his son over and sent him ahead to scout out the path and check for Patriots. With Connor out of the way, he sidled up next to Charlie, maneuvering his body to keep a bit of distance between her and the thick-necked tribesman guarding her every move.

"So, tell me something," he said, his tone casual. "Earth, Wind, and Fire back here. They're with you 24/7, right?"

Her face scrunched up in confusion, and he knew she didn't remember the old R&B band. "Yeah, so?"

He sighed. "Well, I'm just wondering how you find the time to sneak off and bang my son."

She shot him a look of disgust at the wording of his question. Which had been his intention all along. It was an easy way to gauge her reaction. "Geez..."

"No, I get it. I get it. Where there's a will, there's a way. Blackout with your cackout." Ok, maybe he was taking it a little too far, but he was a little bent out of shape discussing the whole thing.

"Yeah, whatever that means."

"You know, it's interesting. Of all the guys you choose to screw, you choose a Monroe." And it was interesting. After the way they had been growing closer, for her to go off with his son so randomly was one thing he couldn't figure out. And he knew he wasn't handling the rejection that well either.

"I'm going to be sick."

Suddenly, a noise from off the path had the entire entourage pulling weapons. He yanked his gun out, just as Charlie did, and moved behind her, guarding her back. Old habits wouldn't die that easily.

It turned out to be nothing but Miles and Rachel.

"Hold your fire," Charlie shouted, approaching her mother and uncle.

Miles moved around the women and stepped closer to him. "So much for coming in stealth. We could hear you from a mile away."

"Yeah, well, we're not exactly traveling light."

Miles looked over their new soldiers and sighed. "You know, we could use twice as many."

Tell me something I don't know, brother. "We were lucky to get them."

"All right." Sometimes, he swore all that Miles ever did was sigh. "I had money you'd screw us over, but...I'll give you this one. You did all right."

Jerk. "Yeah, well, one...suck it. Two, it wasn't me. It was your niece." She was driving him insane in every way one human being could drive another. But she was still holding onto his heart. And he had to give credit where it was due. At least, in her case.

As she came back over to the two of them, she shot him a look that was equal parts killer and seductress. He was dying here.

And he still didn't know the answer to his damn question.

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Sometimes she just wanted to punch him in the face. All right, a lot of the time. But, damn it, if he wasn't right most of the time.

The stupidest thing her mother could have done was talk Miles into letting that kid go. Who knew what repercussions they would all suffer for that?

Well, actually, that wasn't the stupidest thing ever. That honor was reserved wholly for Monroe and his desire to bring back the Republic.

What the hell was he thinking? Why would he ever want it back? After some of the discussions they'd had on the road back to Willoughby, the time when it was just him and her, when they'd decided to talk to each other instead of being silent and bored all the time, she thought he had actually hated ruling the Republic.

So, why now? What could he possibly want the Monroe Republic back for unless it was...Connor. He wanted to hand over the keys of the kingdom to his son. And that little son of a bitch knew it, too.

In New Vegas, when she'd asked Connor if he was like his father, he'd said no. But he hesitated. And she sensed something behind his dark eyes, some secret he was hiding. Asses, the both of them. So, she'd had sex with an idiot who wanted to bring back the very thing responsible for the deaths of her father and brother. Considering the turnout, she should have just gone and slept with the one she really wanted...

My God, did she really just think that?

She hated to admit it, really hated to, but she had to. She and Monroe had been growing closer, ever since he came back for her at the school. Ever since they had been on the road to Willoughby together if she was honest. And she had been so jealous of Duncan, she'd forgotten all the little bonds popping up between them and hopped in between the sheets with Connor.

Before Mexico, something had been happening to the two of them, and once Connor got there, he threw a wrench into the whole works. She rarely had much time alone with Bas anymore because Connor was always between them. Partly, it was her fault. He'd been hovering ever since their night in Vegas. But it wasn't just her; Monroe was trying to bond with his son by spending time with him as well. It left little time for just the two of them.

And wasn't it amazing that Monroe had little to no interest in restarting the Republic until Connor? Again, they'd talked about it, and as Miles said, he was a pretty bad liar. At least, he was when he let his guard down, as he had a few times with her. He hadn't been lying about not wanting to be in power again.

But Connor had been raised in a drug cartel, where power was the ultimate goal. According to Miles, he'd seemed pretty hell bent on loving his position of being in charge. And he had no interest in coming back with the three of them at first. Had his father used the draw of the mighty Republic as a way to get his son to come with him? Was this whole thing Connor's fault? And did the kid even realize Monroe was only doing it for him?

She needed to know if Connor was as power hungry as his father suspected. And she needed to know it fast. Before it was too late.

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Sorry, I know most people shorten Sebastian to Bass and I shorten it to Bas, but I had a friend named Sebastian growing up and we called him Bastian or Bas. And that's how we wrote it, so I'm trying to break myself of the habit and use the more common short name.


	2. Chapter 2

**Sorry it took a week to get this up, but I needed a little time after the Bass/Rachel kiss thing. And after yesterday's sad news, I needed a bit more time to rearrange things. Anyway, thanks to all who reviewed. Let's keep this fandom going for as long as we can and hope we can get the show relocated like so many dedicated fans are trying to do. And to any other writers, don't give up your fabulous stories. We need as much Charlie/Monroe as we can get.**

**Ok, I own nothing. Although, if I did, there would be a season 3 already in the works. And I'll still take David Lyons, since NBC doesn't seem to want him.**

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Sebastian Monroe hated to say I told you so...who the hell was he kidding, he loved to say it. He wanted nothing more than to say it to Miles right at the moment when the Patriots invaded their safe house. Led by the little shit they'd let go the night before. He wasn't sure how much more bleeding heart crap he could take. His heart was bleeding enough as it was, and he still did what had to be done.

"You didn't shoot the kid, and now he's leading them right to us," he said on the way back to their hideout. He couldn't keep his mouth shut any longer.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious. Shut up," Miles said.

"What's going on?" Rachel asked as she and Charlie approached.

"The bad news is the Patriots just found our last safe house. It's only a matter of time before they find us here, but there's good news. Right, Miles? 'Cause Miles let the kid go, so we can all die with a clean conscience." Holier-than-thou Rachel raised an eyebrow, annoying the hell out of him. Her daughter often used the same expression when she was pissed at him, yet he found it adorable on Charlie.

"Yeah, I'm real sorry. I'm sorry I made it harder for you and your kid to get your discount empire back." God, sometimes he hated Miles and his sarcasm. Connor's eyes slid over to him. But it wasn't Connor he was worried about. "Oh, you didn't think we knew? We do."

He should have known Miles would go running to tell Rachel. So it was a sure bet Charlie knew. He hadn't wanted it to go this way; he wanted to tell her himself when the moment was right. He glanced at her, but she didn't even look at him. Her eyes were on his son. Oh, the hell with all of them. "For the last three days, all we've ever done is run and hide, Miles. We gotta take it to them. We gotta hit the boot camp."

"We don't have enough guys," Miles said. "Okay, they tripled security."

"Because you let the kid go! And he told them everything," he shouted, anger growing inside him. For God's sake, why couldn't anyone see he was trying to do the necessary thing? Sometimes, the right thing just didn't work.

As Gene walked past them, Rachel called out to her father. "Dad? Dad, where are you going?"

Gene turned. "Into Willoughby."

"Why?" Rachel asked.

"I cannot listen to another second of these two bickering like sorority girls. I'm gonna...get us some help from town. Help we can trust."

Monroe snorted. The entire family was delusional. Well, maybe not all of them. "After all the times I saved your puckered ass."

"Grandpa, it's too dangerous," Charlie said stepping closer to her grandfather. Monroe held back a chuckle. At least someone was still using common sense.

"And we need men. Not a bunch of hicks." Way to jump in, son. Pride spread through him; his kid was pretty damn smart.

Gene rolled his eyes. "Miles, you said yourself, we need more people. These are my people. They're good people. They'll fight. Trust me."

"What makes you think we can trust them? Aren't they a little drunk on the Patriot Kool-Aid?" Miles asked.

"We talk to them. Show them what's happening to their kids. They'll do the right thing."

The old man was just not going to give it up. Monroe couldn't believe anyone could hold onto such hopes when all the evidence pointed to the contrary. How in the hell could he get these people to understand? "Yeah, really? Now, when you were working for creepy Uncle Sam...you knew the truth. Did you do the right thing?"

The look on Gene's face was one of remorse and pain. If he liked the man a little bit more, he might have felt sorry for him. After all, he understood angst more than most. "No, but I'm trying to now."

He was fairly certain Gene was not going to succeed in luring the townspeople to their fight. After all, people always do the stupid, selfish thing. Miles had said that so many times during their lives, and he'd found out the hard way his best friend was right. But far be it from him to stop the old man trying. Good riddance.

"I'll go with you," Rachel said. Even better.

"No, no." Oh, come on, brother. Let her go.

"Yeah, me too." Oh, hell no. Okay, so Charlie wasn't using her brains either, but could he blame her? Her need to back-up and protect her family was one of her strongest suits. And one of the ones he found most desirable. But there was no way he was letting her go into Willoughby for something as dangerous and stupid as this little quest. He sighed and looked away. Yeah, and he'd just linger in the fantasy that he could stop her from doing anything she wanted to for a little bit longer.

"No, both of you are staying here." Good job, Miles. "I'll take him in. He's gonna walk into Berlin, he's gonna need a military escort."

Frickin' idiot. "That's great, Miles. That's awesome. Yeah. First we lose AARP here, and now we lose you."

"You got a better idea, Bass. I mean, aside from standing here bitching." Dick. "Cause...I'd love to hear it. No, okay."

As they turned to walk away, he struggled not to just tackle Miles to the ground, the way they'd done when they were kids fighting and trying to stop the other from doing something stupid. Instead, he did nothing. Because, honestly, he had no other ideas, and as much as he wanted to bang his head against the wall in frustration, they did indeed need more men. Not to mention the possible shit storm he had to deal with right here.

She knew. Knew about him and Connor, about the Republic, and it killed him to not know what she was thinking. But she was shutting him out of their silent communication, had been since he'd questioned her about Connor the other day. All right, so he was starting to regret the way he'd gone about it, not to mention the vulgar way he'd spoken to her. If anyone else had said those things to her, he probably would have slit their throat.

So, was he back on her kill list? Just how pissed off was she? And why was he even concerned about it? All of her attention was on Connor, her eyes following his every move. Talk about holding onto false hope. Maybe she really had only rescued them to save his son. It wouldn't be hard to believe, would it? He'd misread her intentions towards him, walking into that nightmare scene in the field. He swore to himself he would stop believing she gave a damn. So why was his ego insisting she still cared, when she'd said time and again that she didn't?

Why was he doing this to himself?

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She couldn't figure him out, and it was driving her crazy. She'd been watching him like a hawk, keeping track of his movement, his motions, his facial expressions, trying to garner just what his intentions were. But nothing was working. The kid knew how to keep things buried deep inside; she'd give him that. Maybe that was something inherited as well, like his smile or his curly hair. Then again, maybe not. When she really thought about it, Bass wore his heart on his sleeve so strongly that it might as well have been next to the militia insignia. He tried to bury things, but emotions were always so close to the surface for the elder Monroe. Not so for his son.

She was going to need a new tactic.

Watching Connor dig a hole for the sharp posts they were using to reinforce the perimeter, she let out a chuckle. He stopped and looked up at her. "Tell me. What's so funny?"

Ribbing his father usually caused the man to lose his cool. Would it work on Connor? "I'm just picturing you and Monroe. Hey, were you guys thinking matching thrones? Cause I think that'd be adorable."

He said nothing, but if the vein pulsing on his neck was any indication, teasing him was getting his goat. "I mean, let's be realistic. You're a skinny-ass nobody, and Monroe's the world's heavyweight psycho, so, I don't know, don't you think maybe you're in over your head a little bit."

Charlie had learned long ago the way to rile a man was to threaten his manhood. But a lot of her words were true. Connor really was a nobody in the scheme of the world, while his father had ruled a kingdom. Maybe not well, but he had lead a nation. She wasn't complementing Monroe, not really, but he was charming and charismatic; his son had it, but not the way his father did. What had she called it? Monroeness. His son didn't have enough Monroeness. Okay, maybe she **was** completing Bass, but he had something that, if used for the good, could be very powerful. If this kid was the one dragging him back down into the shadows, she wanted it to stop.

Calling into question Connor's ability to keep up with his dad seemed to set off a spark in him. "You don't know me. What I did...back home. Maybe I'm finally where I'm supposed to be. Ever thought of that?"

No she hadn't, not at first. But admittedly, the thought that Connor was the one pushing Bass into the Republic was exploding now. His eyes. She'd seen that look in his father's eyes once. When he'd had Strausser hold a gun on her. It was maniacal; that was the only way she could describe it. It was a lust for power. But she hadn't seen that look on Monroe's face in a long time, nothing to indicate he wanted to rule the world again. Shouldn't it have been there if he was the one behind this whole thing?

Frustration seeped through her; had she been right about Connor? Somehow that didn't make her feel any better. She'd actually slept with the guy. It had only happened the once, in New Vegas, but how had she been so blindly fooled by the nice guy persona. The truth was...she hadn't been. What made her blind was her jealousy over Duncan, and the continual suppression of these weird ass feelings for Monroe. She'd jumped right into bed with Connor to hide everything else in her life.

Damn, what the hell was she going to do? Miles was in Willoughby, and there was no way she could approach Bass with her suspicions just yet.

A fire in the distance caught her attention. "What's that?"

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They crept along, through the brush, Rachel by his side. He guessed it was because she felt she was the other adult. Truthfully, he'd have Charlie or Connor by his side over her any day. And not just because she wanted to bury a hatchet in his head.

Was this a Patriot camp? Surrounding the fire was a large group of men and women who appeared to be...searching through bodies. Bodies dressed in khaki. What the hell?

"What are you doing?" Charlie asked as her men stepped out from behind the bushes and started forward.

There were shouts and yells, but they were followed quickly by hugs and hand slaps. These were the tribesmen's' clan. Duncan's people. Screw the citizens of Willoughby; these were people he could trust. He walked out into the field, followed by the others.

A blond man approached him. "Hey, you're Monroe."

"Yeah, that's right. You're, uh, you're Duncan Page's men."

"What's left of them."

"Where's Duncan?"

"She's dead."

"How?" They hadn't been lovers for over five months, but the thought of her being gone hurt all the same. He glanced over at Charlie and saw a hint of sadness on her face. She and Duncan had been rivals, over a lot more than just him, but at the end, they'd reached an understanding of sorts. Her death hurt the woman he loved as well. No way could he let that stand.

"Those dicks in khaki. That's how." They looked over at a body lying on the ground. "The Patriots. And we want blood."

He could understand that. So did he. For Duncan; for all the people who burned to death in his city. "Well, you came to the right place."

He knew Rachel was watching him; her eyes filled with that hatred and disgust she reserved especially for him. Sometimes, he just wanted to wipe that look right off her face; he wanted to remind her she hadn't always found him so revolting. But he never did. Because of Miles, he kept quiet and let her berate him at every turn. Hell, he knew he deserved it. He had wreaked havoc on her family, but he'd done as much to Charlie, and she no longer felt the need to throw it in his face on a regular basis. He was trying to change, but whereas Charlie saw that, Rachel would never believe it.

So he took her constant insults and taunts. But someday...there might come a time when he could no longer hold his tongue.

Rachel wrinkled her nose when a tribesman pulled teeth out of a dead Patriot's mouth. "Is that really necessary?"

"Gold's gold," the blond man said. "And it's not like they're going to need it anymore."

"Will you tell me what happened?" Monroe asked.

"Right after you left Vegas, those Patriots hit us. Hard," the man explained. "Word is they've taken out every war clan they can find. Trying to bring some civilization to the Plains."

"This is all that's left?" Duncan's clan had been quite sizable; the Patriots had wiped out so many.

"Duncan fought like hell, but...they blew her face clean off. I saw it happen...her and half the tribe." She'd been a beautiful, powerful woman; the thought of her dying like that inflamed him. Monroe looked around. The little group wasn't much, but it was better than what they currently had. He could work with this. "That's why we're here. To find you. Duncan said you were down here, killing those U.S. sons of bitches."

"That's right. Yeah, we're trying." He sized the other man up. "So, uh, you're in charge of this little war party?"

"Don't want to be. I make a damn good Indian, but I'm no chief."

"Well, that makes sense. After all, you need a leader with experience...right?" He looked directly at Charlie, catching her eye. She cocked her head, glaring at him for the dig he'd just delivered. Except, he hadn't really meant it that way. Breaking the contact, he lowered his head, pissed at himself for once again upsetting her when he hadn't wanted to.

"You came to Duncan asking for men. Well, you got 'em."

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He sat alone, looking out over the men he was now to lead. Now that Duncan was dead. He wanted to scream and rage over her death, but all he could muster was a silent regret. Regret for the way he'd left things between them, both the first time he'd left and the last. He hadn't really apologized for simply walking away; although, to be fair, he'd been dragged away by bounty hunters, and then tossed right into the whirlwind known as Charlotte Matheson.

Now Duncan was just another person to add to the list of those he'd cared about and lost. They hadn't been in love, neither of them had been looking for that really, but he had cared. And her death hurt. Not the way losing Shelly had, or his parents and sisters, but enough to want revenge.

Still, he was going to drag more people, more soldiers, into battle, like he had so many times before. It was going to be violent and bloody, and he was going to have to be brutal, as brutal as he'd ever been as General Monroe. Because, in spite of what Rachel thought, the Patriots had no qualms about using any means necessary to take out their enemies. And if their enemies refused to fight the same way, then they would die.

Charlie would die. And Connor. And that was not something he was willing to let happen.

He glanced over at Charlie, gathering up her gear with Connor at her side. The kid was always at her side anymore. But how could he blame him? That's where he would be if she wanted him there.

As if sensing him watching, her head lifted, and their eyes connected. She was mad at him again. For the comment calling her leadership skills into question. And it was true. He didn't want her to lead this battle, but not because he doubted her abilities for one second; he knew she would do what was needed when it was needed. But because he didn't want her to lose herself anymore than she already had. He could see the fire she carried inside her going out, and it scared the hell out of him. He would not allow her to become dead inside the way he had. Whoever led this attack against the Patriots was going to have to make tough decisions, really rough ones, that would get a lot of people killed on both sides of the fight. He and Miles had already made those kinds of calls. He didn't want Charlie to be the one to have to live with it for the rest of her life.

The blond man, who he now knew was named Scanlon, approached him, and he stood. Enough melancholy for now. He needed to be the General again. "We hit the camp fast and hard. That includes the cadets. But don't torch any intel. I want to find out exactly what's going on."

"You got it." The blond man fell in with his squad.

"Hey," he called before Scanlon's group headed out. "This one's for Duncan."

"We're ready," Connor said, stepping up to him. He nodded and Connor shouted to the ranks. "We're moving out!"

"Bass!" Rachel yelled, rushing to his side. "Don't do this. Just wait for Miles."

God, he'd grown tired of her. She pushed every single button he had and then acted dumb when he flipped his lid. She'd been doing it to him for years. He was in the wrong when it came to her and her family; he was willing to accept that. But she'd done a lot wrong as well, yet he was always the bad guy. "I got the men I need, Rachel. Don't have to listen to you anymore."

He saw Rachel stop Charlie, watching her brush right past her mother. Now? Now, she was going to be a good mother? He had a lot to say on that subject as well. Things Charlie had unexpectedly shared with him on their trip back to Willoughby. When he'd first begun to fall for her, he could admit now, even if it had taken him months to acknowledge it.

But was he any better? He was leading his own son, and the woman he loved, directly into a firefight. Not that either of them would ever stand down. He trusted both of them with his life. He just had to make sure that they stuck together and got out alive.

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They attacked the camp, gunning down any Patriots they saw. She shot one about to fire on Connor from behind, then continued on with him into a tent. She was beginning to have doubts about the young man, but she didn't believe he would outright defy his father. And Monroe's orders were to cover each other's backs. Orders she was willing to follow, even if she was a little hurt that Bass hadn't trusted her enough to lead.

Still, she now knew things about Connor that no one else did. How was she ever going to convince anyone in her family that she thought it was the younger Monroe pushing the older one into action? Not that the father was being manipulated by the son. Bass was probably the one who suggested the whole thing. But she was really starting to believe he was doing it all to present his son a legacy. The only legacy he had left to offer. Connor, on the other hand, wanted the power. Imagine what a man raised by a ruthless drug lord could do with the firepower of the Monroe Republic.

Inside the tent, a Patriot with a gun held the two of them near the entrance. Slipping away from Connor, she advanced on the soldier from the side, blocked his gun with her sword, and shoved him back, slashing across his stomach and stabbing him through the heart. Connor nodded at her, and they stepped outside.

And came right upon Monroe shooting wounded Patriots crumpled on the ground.

Her heart sank watching him shoot unarmed men. Tears sprung to her eyes. What kind of idiot fool was she? Here she was giving Bass the benefit of the doubt. Certain with all of her being that he was only in it for his son. That he was becoming a good man. How had she misread his intentions so badly?

The Monroes deserved each other. "That's the man you want to follow. Good luck with that."

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He inspected the belt around the man's neck, searching for any sign of who might have strangled the life out of him. He was obviously a Patriot bigwig, but there were so many of them, Monroe couldn't keep them straight. Scanlon entered, and he looked up at him.

"One of your men strangle this guy with his own belt?" The blond man shrugged. Bass stood and picked up the gun from the dead man's desk. "You do a head count on the cadets?"

"Looks like there's four still unaccounted for."

"Wonder if the Patriots deployed them before we got here? And for what?" He stepped over the body without a second glance, his attention on a bunch of papers spread out over a table. He'd had one just like it in his office in Philly. It usually held plans of the next place he planned to conquer. He flipped open a brown leather ledger, scanning the pages.

"What's that?" Scanlon asked.

"I found this in a locked drawer. Don't suppose you speak Arabic?" If no one could read the book, they were no closer now then they'd been an hour ago.

"One of the guys did two tours in the Gulf. Let me ask him." Bass folded up the book and handed it over, exchanging a look of appreciation with the other man. This is what he remembered from fights pre-Blackout. The camaraderie of brothers in arms. "I'm, uh, I'm glad to be fighting with you. All the men are."

He tipped his head at Scanlon, who nodded back and left.

So, they'd done it. Taken the camp, hopefully gaining some insight into the Patriots plans. A first small success in what would be a huge war. When he'd ruled the Republic, victories like this usually brought him joy. Or sometimes relief or peace of a sorts. Right now, all he really felt was empty. He couldn't find any real happiness in what they'd done tonight. Had it been a necessary move? Absolutely. Did he feel good about it? Not really.

Maybe he was changing.

He didn't really remember walking back to their campsite. Watching the men celebrate, he swallowed a big gulp of whiskey. Truth was, he'd killed so many people over the years, he'd become numb to it. He knew he could still turn into General Monroe when he needed to, but he wasn't that man all the time anymore, like he'd been even a year ago. Miles and Charlie and his son had begun to break through that carefully constructed barrier.

Sitting here back at their base, he realized he couldn't just be numb to all the horrors he'd reigned down. He'd killed men tonight, who might have been members of his own militia if things had gone differently. They lived in a world where death was inescapable. But a year ago, he might have enjoyed it; now, he suddenly understood why Charlie didn't like to kill unless she had to.

He looked at his son, who caught his eye and ambled his way. Handing over the bottle, he smiled when the kid took a swig. He was proud to call this brave man his family. He settled his hands on both sides of his son's face and studied him closely.

Connor. Connor was going to make everything better. They would get the Republic back, and his son would make things different. The way he and Miles had wanted it to be in the beginning, before everything turned to shit. Then all of this, all he'd done and still had to do, would be worth it.

And once they got it back, maybe he could retire. Just kick back and watch his son rule the world.

God, he wished he could have Charlie at his side.

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Cleaning the blood off her hands reminded Charlie of a Shakespeare play Aaron had made them read when she was young. Was the blood ever really going to come off? She could scrub and scrub, and she would never get rid of it.

She was heartbroken. She had so wanted to believe Monroe had changed, was changing, and that all the Republic talk was merely for Connor's benefit. But seeing him slaughter those men, so easily, with no remorse, she couldn't deny the truth right in front of her face. He was still General Sebastian Monroe, and sadly, he always would be.

And now, she could finally admit why it hurt so badly. She was falling for him. It was one thing to be sexually attracted to him; she'd already come to grips with that. But it was another to realize the attraction was far more than physical. He'd saved her, been there for her, and treated her like an adult, respecting her opinions and ideas. She couldn't really say that of Miles or her own mother at this point. And the sarcastic banter between them always made her smile. It was like...he had become her best friend.

Was every Matheson this susceptible to Bass Monroe?

Well, maybe not the one approaching her right now. "Whose blood is that? Anyone we know? How could you go with them?"

"They were going with or without me." She refused to meet her Rachel's accusatory eyes, keeping her gaze on the pail of water in front of her.

"Don't give me that. You killed kids."

Christ, did her mother understand nothing about war. For as smart as Rachel was, she chose to live in a very sheltered world. "We had to hit that camp."

"Why? So Monroe can get his Republic back?"

Damn it, she did not need to talk about the man she was suffering over right now. She stood up and faced her mother. "Mom, Monroe's deluded. I don't care how many men he's got. He's not getting the Republic back."

"What makes you so sure?"

Live or die, she would make certain of it. "Well, none of us is going to be alive that long anyway. But until then, we stay standing, we keep fighting, and we do whatever it takes to win. I didn't go for Monroe. I went for myself."

Her mother just stared at her with those cold blue eyes. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"You've been watching me and Miles, the way we act. The awful things that we do. How could you be any different?" Charlie shook her head. Her mother seriously thought she was the reason behind all this. Rachel hadn't brought about this change in her. That had happened on the road to Philadelphia, as she struggled to save her brother. She met Miles and Nora and began to understand what she was going to have to do to survive. "We did this to you. We made you into this weapon, this soldier. You are 22 years old. You can still have a future."

She wondered what her mother would think if she knew who she wanted a future with. Or had wanted, until she realized he was still a monster. She didn't know her heart could hurt so much over one man. "Really?"

"Yes. What are you fighting for if you don't have any hope?" Rachel asked.

Charlie couldn't take it anymore. He'd started bringing hope back into her life, simply by making her laugh, at herself, at him, at her uncle. But now, she'd lost it all again. "What's gotten into you, huh? You're the scariest person I know, and now you're preaching sharing and caring. What's the point? What are you fighting for?"

Her mother's eyes softened, tears filling them slightly. "You...I guess I'm fighting for you. I'm fighting so you won't be me."

When Rachel walked away, she went back to scouring the blood off her face. But those words swirled around her head. Her mother had always put Danny first, and Charlie had never resented it. Danny was sick a lot, and she'd loved him enough to accept that he needed the attention more. To hear she was Rachel's motivation now...

Too many emotions overwhelmed her all at once, and she threw the washcloth back into the pail, staring out at the celebration below. She had never felt so secluded or lonely in her life.

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Looking up, he saw Miles crossing the campsite. He'd act normal, smile and offer a drink. After all, he had to be the guy to do the dirty work. Why make Miles feel guilty, too? "Hey."

He figured his brother would be pissed, but he hadn't expected the right hook to the face. "Is there a problem?"

"Who the hell told you to hit that camp?"

Oh, here we go. He saw Rachel standing off to the side, arms crossed, smug look on her face. God, sometimes he really hated her. "I saw an opportunity. I took it. What happened, Miles? You go back into town, those hicks wouldn't help."

"You didn't give them much incentive. You shot their children."

Dig the knife deep, asshole. Twist it a bit while you're at it. They both knew those kids weren't kids anymore; they were assassins waiting to happen. But he was the only one ready to admit they had to do the unthinkable. "It wouldn't have helped anyway, Miles. You know what people are like deep down, right? They do the stupid, selfish thing every time. That's what you always say. Look around. Two dozen men. This is a gift. It's a gift. It's the start of an army. So you can sit there with your bitchy, frowny face, judging me. Or you can get on board...we take it to them, and we do some real damage."

There was silence as Miles stared at him, and he knew he'd gotten through to his hard-headed best friend. The Patriots were the worst bad guys they'd ever faced, worse than he had ever been. The only way to win was all out war, and there was going to be carnage. Killing was necessary here. Did he like it? No. Would he do it? Hell, yeah. To protect the people they both loved, he would do anything. Charlie and Connor were more important than anything else. "So what's it gonna be?"

Scanlon ran up to them, holding the ledger and handed Monroe a piece of paper. "Hey, my guy translated this. You need to see it."

He shot Miles a smirk, not even trying to hide his cockiness. He read it, frowning as he realized what he held in his hands.

"What's it say?" Connor asked.

"Well, at least we know where they're taking the cadets." He handed the paper to Miles. "To Austin."

"For what?"

He answered his son but kept his eyes on Miles. "Oh, just to take down the, uh, Texas government. And kill their president."

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He was glad to see his father was willing to do what was necessary for their cause. They hadn't talked about the Republic since finding out that the Mathesons knew, but it looked like his old man was still on board. He'd been a bit concerned, considering his father's extreme attachment to the family, but now it seemed all was okay.

He didn't think Miles was going to help though, even though his father kept insisting that he needed him. Sometimes, he wondered about the friendship between the two men, and if he hadn't seen Monroe make such googly eyes at Charlie, he might have thought they were lovers. But he was fairly certain his father was into women. Well, one woman at least.

Charlie hadn't slept with him since their tryst in New Vegas, and while he might have enjoyed continuing that little arrangement, it wasn't like he was heartbroken or anything. But considering the sullen looks on both of their faces lately, not to mention the way they avoided each other, he didn't think she'd taken up with the old man either.

What was it with Monroe and the Mathesons anyway?

If Charlie wanted to join them on the quest to restore the Republic, then so be it. If not, he was going to happily say good riddance to the lot of them. Now, that he knew his father's head was still in the game, that is.

Watching his father attack the Patriot soldiers renewed his belief in the promises Monroe had made him. For a man feared by so many, Connor had faced a few moments when he felt the guy was too soft. Too soft to do the things needed to climb back to the top. But after tonight, he knew the old man was as brutal as everyone always said. And brutality equaled respect. That was one of Senior Nunez's favorite lessons.

One Connor took to heart.

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**Yay, so I finally got used to writing Bass with two "ss" instead of one. I want to keep consistent with everyone else. Just old habits die hard, right?**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks again to everyone who reviewed. You guys keep reading, I'll keep writing. I wholeheartedly believe in this #RelocateRevolution campaign we are working on. I mean, I've avoided Twitter for years and now have an account due to Revolution. We need a season 3. But until we get one, I'm still writing my little heart out for them. **

**Dialogue is taken from Austin City Limits. Again, I own nothing or there would be a season 3. And still waiting for NBC to send me David Lyons...**

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They were milling around the campsite, Miles arguing with Scanlon while she and Bass stood by in silence. She was still so pissed at him, so heartbroken, but she'd buried it deep inside, along with all the other things she didn't want to think about. Why should she worry about the Republic or the future? None of them was going to live that long anyway. Monroe was just another man who had betrayed her.

There was a ruckus as tribesmen all around them pulled weapons, Miles and Monroe whipping out guns as well. In the shadows approaching the fire, she could just make out Connor being held captive. And was that...

"Jason?" She stepped forward.

"Let him go," Monroe said, his voice tense. She could never fault his love for his son. "I said, let him go!"

"Sorry, this was the only way to get through the door," Jason said. "But I wanna help you."

"You want to help us?" Miles sounded suspicious, much like she felt. Jason had flipped sides as many times as his father, and right about now, she wasn't feeling inclined to trust anyone. "How?"

The young man shoved Connor towards his father, then lifted his hands in surrender, holstering his gun. Miles and Monroe didn't offer the same courtesy.

Jason pulled a piece of paper from his back pocket. "Intel from Truman's office."

"Really?" Miles stepped forward and took the paper. "How's your dad feel about that?"

"I could care less," Jason said. Charlie didn't believe him for a second. He'd told her before that he wasn't going to follow his father anymore, only to turn around and wind up at Tom's side all over again. "They sent cadets to Austin. I don't know why, but they're heading to 19 Arnell St."

Miles exchanged a look with Monroe, and she could see the doubt pass between them. "Why are you telling us this?"

"Because whatever they're going to do, I need to come with you, and I want to help you stop them."

Miles paused, and she glanced at her uncle in disbelief. They weren't actually buying this crap, were they? This had to be another trap that his father had set up for them. Last she knew, the Nevilles were still after Monroe. And as jumbled as her feelings for Bass were, she wasn't passing over one of their finest fighters to Tom Neville. "Are you joking? After all the times you screwed us over."

"She's got a great point," Miles said.

"Yeah, I know she does." Jason's eyes were on her, looking at her with a mixture of regret and weariness. He had to know she no longer had any interest in him on a romantic basis. She'd moved on. To a psychotic ex-dictator who she hated. Or was trying to hate anyway. "And right now, I'm about the last guy you should be trusting."

He pulled down the skin under his eye to reveal his Patriot tattoo, and she looked away. As much as she didn't trust him, she wouldn't have wished this fate on anyone, least of all Jason. Once upon a time, she had loved him. "You have any idea what that is?"

Miles sighed. "Yeah. We've seen one or two of them."

"That's what those sons of bitches did to me. That, and a lot more." He shook his head. "Look, I know I've got nothing here, nothing but burned bridges. And I know there's no reason for you to take me, but I'm asking you. I can help. I need payback."

"How do we know this isn't a trick? How do we know you're not zombified right now?" Bass asked. Charlie looked at him. She often forgot he and Jason had a past, too. General Monroe had once been his commander-in-chief. How had they all come so far from where they started?

"You don't," Jason said. "If I step out of line, just an inch...shoot me."

This was insane. How could both Miles and Monroe go for this stupid idea? "Seriously? Are you actually considering this?"

"Well, this kid could come in handy." He was siding against her. Bass was siding against her and it hurt. He always had her back. Even knowing he was a scheming liar, she trusted him to protect her. And why did she even care? She hated him...she really did. "And it's like he said, he makes one wrong move, we shoot him."

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Miles was off, pussyfooting around with Rachel, when they should have already been on the road. God, his idiot brother was so whipped. The woman drove Monroe crazy, but every once in awhile, he remembered their lives before the Blackout. They'd been friends; all of them. He, Miles, Rachel...Ben. What might things have been like had the lights never gone out?

The truth was, he'd always tried to talk Miles out of Rachel. Well, not entirely. Before she married Ben, he'd tried to convince his best friend to stop the wedding. He knew Miles was gone on the girl, and he figured it would be easier to call off the nuptials, rather than suffer the consequences later. But Miles had insisted he couldn't hurt his brother that way. Bass understood that; they'd both always looked up to Ben. In the end, it had been worse. To this day, he still wasn't sure if Ben had ever discovered the lengthy affair between his wife and his younger brother.

He looked at the young woman sitting in the back of the wagon, wedged uncomfortably between Jason Neville and his son. Every once in a while, he wondered if she was Miles's kid. Considering how long her mother and uncle had been carrying on behind Ben's back, it wasn't completely impossible to believe.

He shook his head. If Miles really was her father, that was even more reason for him to stay away from her. Not hard to do at the moment. Things had been tense between them for a while, and for the last few days, she'd been avoiding him more than ever. It was killing him, but he honestly had no idea how to make it better.

Miles crawled onto the wagon and plopped down next him, morose as usual. This was another reason Rachel annoyed him. She turned Miles into a lovesick puppy. Not like her daughter was doing the same thing to him or anything. "Oh, buck up, tiger. You can do 72 hours without the old ball and chain. This is a boy's weekend. We're gonna have ourselves some fun."

He knew full well there was a woman on the trek with them; he needed no reminder of Charlie's femininity. It spoke volumes of his respect for her that he not only welcomed but greatly wanted her on this trip. Including her in a guy's weekend meant he trusted her skills far more than half the men he knew. Aside from Miles, she had become his closest friend.

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They arrived in Austin undercover of night, stashing the wagon and using a small boat for greater stealth. The dinghy swayed in the water as she tried to crawl out, and she steadied herself on Monroe's outstretched arm. He turned to her and they made eye contact. Damn him. She was so sure she could care less about him, until she was trapped in those deep blue pools once again. Was she forever cursed to be sucked back into him? No. No matter what she felt, she was done with him. She had to be, for so many reasons, her sanity among them. He was evil.

Then why did he gaze at her at her so gently?

Once she was on solid ground, he broke the connection and pulled his gun, back into soldier mode at the drop of a hat. Stop it, Charlie. There is no future here. No future at all.

She realized Jason was staring at her, and she wondered if he'd caught her staring at Monroe. That was all she needed. She shot him a snide look, waiting for him to step in front of her. No way did she trust him to be at the back of the pack. He looked hurt but continued up off the riverbank.

"You and six-pack make quite the spicy team," Connor said. Another complication in her life. "What kind of number did he do on you?"

"Well, the only person in the world I trust less than him is you." And that was the truth. She knew there was something off about Connor; she just wasn't sure what to do about it yet. And, yeah, in spite of everything, she did in fact trust his father. With her life.

How had she ended up here with the man she'd loved once; the man she'd slept with once; and the man she loved and wanted more than anything? God, her life was a mess.

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The kid was proving useful; Monroe had to admit that much. He'd gotten them in the room without getting them blown up, so bonus points. And he'd deciphered the one clue they'd found, leading them right to Blanchard.

Which is where they now were. Sneaking down a hallway in the Texan's mansion. He glanced around at the artwork and finery. Sometimes, he really missed his house in Philadelphia.

The sounds of slapping and tortured grunts brought him out of his reverie. The noise emanated from a half-opened door, and he exchanged a look with Miles as they quickened their pace down the hall. Had someone already gotten to Blanchard?

Miles leaned in the door, effectively blocking his view. Then he saw his best friend's head drop a little before shooting a look his way. It was classic sarcastic Miles. What the hell? His brother pushed on the door, and the scene unfolded before him. It would take years to erase the sight from his memory.

The half-naked woman whipping Blanchard with a riding crop jolted, her startled eyes falling on the two of them at the door. Tied to the bedposts and blindfolded, the old man had no idea they were there, and Miles hushed her with a finger to his lips.

Seriously, this is what the asshole did in his spare time? He had a beautiful, scantily-clad woman at his disposal, and **this** is what got him off? Some weird ass S&M shit. Being the president of the Republic, he'd had women available to him at the snap of his fingers, but he'd found far better ways to entertain both himself and the woman. Or women, if he so chose. Of course, he'd settle for one night with Charlie now, but back then...

He crept into the room, lifting his gun so the girl could see he meant no harm. For that's what she really was, little more than a girl. Old pervert. He suddenly didn't feel so bad about his own obsession. At least he loved Charlie. Pointing to the riding crop, he silently asked her to hand it over, holding it against Blanchard's back as she stepped away. Glancing over, Miles gave him a little half-smile, a little go-for-it-brother head nod.

Texas had ordered his death. Damn, this was gonna be fun.

He hauled back his arm, then let it fly. Hard. But not as hard as he could have. They did want the guy on their side after all. Miles chuckled, turning away, mirth evident on his face, and he swished the crop again, connecting harshly with Blanchard's skin.

"Ow! Whoa...whoa! Walnut!" the old man shouted.

What the...walnut? He mouthed the word to Miles, who couldn't stop quietly laughing. Catching the eye of the young woman, he smiled at her, a smile she shyly returned. Oh, yeah, he still had it. If he wanted, he could have her eating out of his hand in seconds. Sadly, all he wanted was back in the room with Connor and Jason. But at least the three of them could have a chuckle at the old Texan's expense.

"Sorry, Frank," Miles said, and the man's head twisted towards the voice. "Safe words are no good here."

He reached over Blanchard, yanking the blindfold from his eyes. "I gotta tell you, Frank. You're making this way too easy."

The old man's head whipped in his direction. "Hang on. You're supposed to be dead!"

Everyone seemed so shocked that he'd defeated death. Can't keep a good man down, pal. "Back by popular demand."

Blanchard looked back at Miles. "Oh, I don't believe this. You two are here to kill me. Are you serious? I mean, hell, I'm retired."

"That's not why we're here. I mean, we're not the ones trying to kill you," Miles said.

Blanchard looked intrigued enough to offer them a drink.

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Damn it. He'd said it before, and he'd say it again. If he didn't have bad luck, he'd have no luck at all. Except now his losing streak was extending to his family.

They'd been within inches of staging a coup by getting Blanchard on their side. But if the man wasn't already dead, he was well on his way to it. Maybe if medicine hadn't reverted back to colonial days, they might have had a chance to save him. No pre-Blackout operating rooms with highly skilled surgeons and advanced treatments still existed. So here they were, right back at square one.

Except when they walked into the little rented room on Arnell Street, they found a very unbound Jason Neville cleaning a knife and a bloody man tied to a chair. Connor and Charlie leaned up against the wall, watching. Late to the party, as usual.

"What'd we miss?" Miles asked.

"He's a cadet handler. The next target's General Carver. They're going to hit him at the capitol building at one o'clock today," Jason answered.

Fine job, soldier. If the kid had still been in his militia, he would have rewarded him greatly for that little nugget. But Carver...no way were they saving his sorry ass. "We're letting that one happen."

"Bass, he's the president. They kill him, frame California..."

He rolled his eyes at his best friend. "He had me executed, all right. Excuse me, if I hold a grudge."

"Nice work, kid," Miles said, and Monroe had to agree. Although, he could easily change his mind, seeing the way Charlie was looking at Jason.

"You can cuff me again, if you want." Jason held his arms out in front of him.

"Nah, you're good." Miles shrugged. Bass wasn't so sure he agreed with that.

"So, what's the plan?" Connor asked.

"Keep our eyes open. Look for kids from Willoughby. Hope we catch a break."

Nice way to sum up the fact that we're up shit creek, brother. And...what the hell was Charlie whispering to Jason. Jealousy had never looked good on him, which was weird, considering how many times in his life he'd been green with envy. Too many to count. Jesus, he really was screwed up.

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There were so many people here; they were never going to find the kids they were looking for. Charlie swore nothing ever went right for them, but they had to keep trying, even if they were fighting a losing battle. She'd told Connor the truth that night in New Vegas; they'd never win, but she'd go down swinging.

She kept her eye on all of them, Miles, Connor, Bass, and Jason. Poor Jason. She felt bad for him; the things that Patriot said about him being nothing more than a weapon, well, she knew that wasn't true, at least not for the Jason she'd known. But the truth was she didn't really know him anymore. And she knew firsthand what those bastards had done to the kids in the re-education camps. She wasn't sure if they could help him, even if they survived this.

The two of them had never really had a chance. From the get-go, he'd lied and spied on them...for General Monroe. Who she was now in love with. God, it felt like one of those daytime shows Aaron used to talk about in school. She was always happy that he taught what he called 'pop culture', finding it as important as science and math. But when he'd explained the daytime soap operas, she couldn't imagine anyone would ever believe such far-fetched storylines. Yet here she was, wrapped in the middle of one of her own.

Glancing around, she saw Jason walking out of the packed plaza to a building across the street. Where the hell was he going? She looked for Miles and Bass, both still scanning for cadets, and figured they could handle themselves for a minute. She wanted to check on Jason.

She found him five floors up, staring down at the crowd. "Jason? What are you doing up here?"

"Better vantage point. Spotted a kid. He's got a gun."

She crossed to the window. "Where?"

"There." He pointed vaguely to the street below and handed her a pair of binoculars. She took them, moving them over the area he'd indicated, not seeing anything out of place, but willing to take his word for it. "He hasn't moved in five minutes. You should go check him out."

Something didn't feel right. Every nerve-ending in her body was screaming at her, and as a tracker, instinct was key to survival. She didn't love Jason, not as she had; just being around him made her even more certain she was in love with Bass. But she wanted to believe him. She wanted to for the naive innocents they'd both once been, for the missed opportunities. Her heart told her they were never meant to be, and that Sebastian Monroe was her destiny, had always been her destiny. But, in the worst way, she still wanted to believe him.

Slowly, she turned, her eyes falling on the shelf behind them, to an object covered by a tarp. She pulled back the material and found a sniper rifle. Something Jason had not had when they'd entered the plaza. "Where did you get th-?"

He backhanded her before she could complete the sentence. Shock flowed through her body as the force of the hit spun her around. And then the soldier she'd become took over. She yanked the gun from the back of her waistband, whipping around to point it at him, but he'd moved in too close, and he slammed her body repeatedly against the metal shelving, knocking the gun from her grip.

Suddenly, his hands closed around her throat. "Jason, stop. Stop!"

But his grip was too tight; she couldn't pry him off her. Air was becoming an issue, so she brought a knee up into his groin, missing the exact target and hitting him in the thigh. It halted him for only a moment. He smashed her against the shelf, backhanding her across the face again, then slamming her back into the metal structure, choking off her oxygen supply once more.

She couldn't speak, couldn't say the words to beg him to stop. But she was seriously beginning to get scared. The last time fear had invaded her system so deeply had been in the bar in Pottsboro, when those men had drugged her. But Monroe had been hot on her trail at the time and come swooping in to her rescue. Since he had no idea she'd slunk off after Jason, he wasn't going to save her now. Neither was Miles.

As her vision was blurring, thoughts lingered on both Miles and Monroe. Two men who were more important to each other than just about anyone else. Strange that they'd become the two most important men in her life. And some part of her believed she was the only one who'd ever really breached their little gang of two. Stupid though it might be, she suspected she was as important to each of them as they were to each other. Miles, Monroe, and Charlie. God, she wanted to see them both again.

That thought renewed her energy, and she ripped Jason's knife from his belt, plunging it into his leg. She punched him in the face with as much force as she could muster, then grabbed the rifle from the shelf and raced for the door.

He pulled her down before she could get three feet away. God, she'd stabbed him and hit him, and it had barely slowed him down. What was she going to have to do to make him stop?

He flipped her over, shoving the gun away from her and wrapping his hands back around her neck. Running out of options, she hit him twice in the solar plexus, and he fell to the side, releasing his hold on her. She crawled to the gun, cocking it and pointing it at him, praying it would finally end this nightmare she was trapped in.

It didn't. He stood, pulled the knife from his leg as if sensing no pain, then turned to her, his face expressionless. Jesus, someone had triggered him. "This isn't you. Snap out of it."

He loomed over her, knife still in hand. Had he heard her? Did he understand? "Please, this isn't you...Jason."

He stepped forward, his face never changing, never recognizing her. God, please make him listen. "Stay back. Stay back. Stay back."

The darkness in his eyes increased, frightening her like nothing she'd ever known before. She'd faced down a gun, looking into the eyes of Strausser, and it hadn't scared her. In his eyes, she'd seen insanity. She'd stared down Monroe when he'd been at his worst. In his eyes, she'd seen rage and pain. The one thing she always remembered about Jason, he had a gentle kindness in his brown eyes. As she stared him down today, those eyes were blank. And that was the most horrifying thing she'd ever seen.

"Jason, I'm begging you, please..." He lunged for her.

She pulled the trigger and a bullet ripped its way through Jason Neville's chest. He staggered back, still standing. In the distance, her mind registered a shot from another gun, far away, the Patriots and the cadets long forgotten. Jason teetered for one more second, then fell to his knees.

His collapse yanked her out of her stillness, and she tossed the gun aside, reaching for him, wrapping her arms around him tightly and pulling him to her chest. Once the tears started, they came in full force. Stunned by what she'd done, what she'd been forced to do, she cradled his head gently, kissing him on the forehead, refusing to let go of him as she gently lowered him to the floor. His head rested in her lap as she stroked his hair and wept over lost love.

No matter what she had to do, she was going to make the Patriots pay.

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**I had to include that scene where Miles and Monroe show up to find Blanchard being whipped. Best scene of the episode.** **I just love Monroe.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey, guys, I've read through this several times, but it's late so there may be mistakes that I've missed. Sorry. This is going up later than I planned, but tonight was "series" finale (even though we all know it's only the SEASON 2 finale, not the end #RelocateRevolution), so it's been a long night. For those who have seen the finale...we ARE getting a season 3, no matter what. **

**Still rated T, although there is a bit more swearing in this one, just so you know. Some dialogue has been taken from S#!& Happens, some came from me ;)**

**I own nothing of Revolution, but still taking David, yada, yada, yada, you know the** **rest...**

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There were people...and there was running...and...noises. She thought there were noises, but everything was so muffled. Why did everything sound so far away?

Charlie wasn't sure how she got out of the building. People were slamming into her, hitting her, and she didn't care. Was it possible to be catatonic and still walk? Aaron used to talk about horror movies filled with undead creatures that lumbered along with no purpose other than to kill. Could a person turn into a zombie? Had she?

She was vaguely aware of Miles standing in front of her, shaking her and shouting her name. But she couldn't hear him? Why couldn't she hear him?

Sitting in the wagon as they raced away from Austin, she still hadn't spoken a word to her companions. She knew they were all aware of what had happened. Miles had taken one look at the blood on her shirt and her face, and he'd known. Monroe had taken one look in her eyes and known. She loved both these men, but she hated the sympathy she saw on their faces. She was a soldier; she'd done what she needed to. They both taught her that.

"You know, you had no choice," Miles said, finally breaking the silence. He'd crawled up beside her into the back of the wagon, letting Monroe and Connor drive.

"I don't need a pep talk, Miles."

"You're not getting one." Maybe he did realize she didn't want his pity. "Bad things happen. That's life. You gotta do whatever it takes to win, right? Austin was a win. Quit ringing your hands about it."

Her eyes shot over to him, and then she heard Monroe's voice from above her head. "Finally, now your head's in the game. Now all we gotta do is figure out our next move."

"We gotta shoot Tom Neville."

"You're reading my mail," Monroe quipped. She could feel his eyes on her, even though she wasn't looking. "He's going to kill you, Charlie. When he finds out what happened."

So, he wasn't going to get all mushy on her either. She wanted to kiss him.

"Heads up, we got company," Connor said, lowering his binoculars from the horizon. "Looks like seven of them."

"Got to be Rangers. Must have picked up our trail outside of Austin," Miles said.

"So, what's our move?" Connor asked, looking at his father.

"We shoot 'em all down."

Miles rolled his eyes. "You know, last I checked we still wanted Texas on our side, so if we can stop killing them, that'd be great. Pull the wagon over."

They stopped, and Charlie looked at him, unsure of his plan. "Everybody off."

She stood. "What? Why?"

"I'll lead them on a goose chase. Get them so turned around, they can't find us."

"I'll ride shotgun." Some part of her really didn't want to be separated from Miles right now.

"No. Just get back to your mom." He tossed his gun to Bass, then crawled into the driver's seat.

She followed Monroe and Connor into the woods, and they watched her uncle ride off.

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He was worried about her. She'd been silent the entire trek back to camp, following him like a lost puppy who needed help finding the way home. Things between them were strained anyway, and she'd shied away from any conversation, either giving one word answers or ignoring him completely. He knew better than anyone about losing people, but how the hell could he help her if she wouldn't even talk to him? At least it wasn't just him. She wasn't saying anything to Connor either.

They made it to the safe house by nightfall. Strolling through camp, he caught sight of an old, familiar face. Honestly, he was glad the guy wasn't dead. "Hey, Stay-Puft."

He heard Charlie's voice as she shouted at Aaron. Well, at least she was speaking to someone.

Settling in by the warm fire, he leaned back a little wondering how he could set things right. The chasm between them was growing, and he couldn't stand it. He missed the banter, the chats, even the way she always rolled her eyes at him. He either had to fix things or forget about Charlie forever. This was probably his last window of opportunity.

Glancing up, his eyes locked on her, walking beside Rachel, a determined look on their faces. They were going after Miles. He didn't need any silent communication with Charlie to discern that. He was kind of wondering where his brother was as well.

"They're freaking out over nothing," Connor said. "Miles can take care of himself."

He nodded at his son. Of course, he was right. But there were times when even the toughest man needed a little help. Not to mention, the idea of allowing Charlie, and yes, even Rachel, to go out there alone...it didn't sit well with him. He watched the two as they headed further out of the camp.

"Damn it." He stood up. He had to go. "All right, you wait here. I'm going to go with them."

"I got it. Go find your boyfriend."

He turned to look at Connor, his eyes narrowing at the snide comment. It was a rumor that he'd heard many times, and while he'd always blown it off, it had always pissed him off. He loved Miles, true. Was it hard for two men to admit they loved one another? Probably. But that bond had always been there between the two of them, before they'd been old enough for it to be awkward. Now they were simply brothers, had been even when trying, and failing, to kill each other. Had they ever been lovers? No. Had never even thought about it. They really both loved women. Yeah, they'd even shared a few, but never at the same time. What was between them was brotherhood at its deepest. And if his best friend needed help, he wanted to be there.

But something in Connor's eyes set him on edge. He didn't like the tone in his son's voice either. Something just wasn't right. He didn't have time to dwell on it now, but he did file it away for later.

And, yeah, he was in love with a Matheson...it just wasn't Miles.

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He walked in front of the two of them, trying to keep his distance. He'd tried talking to Charlie, but she cut him off, being unusually short with him. He'd tried again, and she promised to slice off his tongue if he kept going. Now he was just shutting the hell up and searching for his brother. The hell with her if she couldn't even be civil.

He heard Rachel offer to be available when Charlie was ready to talk. He couldn't keep the little smirk off his face when she, too, was met with total silence.

They came to a road that might have been one of the most desolate he'd ever seen. Great. "So which way did they go, genius?"

"You tell me," Charlie said.

Jesus, he wanted to fix that smart mouth sometimes. Just like her damn mother. "You're the tracker."

"I can't track over pavement."

"All right, so you're good, but you're not that good." Yes, he was being harsh, but he was pissed off at her, tired, thirsty, and worried about Miles. "Let's split up. Everyone take a road."

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Charlie walked down the stony path. This wasn't a road, more like a river bank, or a creek bank, really. Hearing a crunch behind her, she turned. If Monroe had followed, she was going to kill him. But there was nothing there. She shrugged, moving down the pathway.

"Miss Matheson."

The cocking of the gun didn't scare her as much as the voice of the man who carried it. She spun around, hand going for her revolver.

"Don't be too hasty now. Toss it. I said, toss it. Blade, too." She did as told.

Here she was, in front of Tom Neville, weaponless.

"Now, tell me. What happened to my boy?"

What the hell was she supposed to say? The best thing to do here was...lie.

"Well? What happened to him? Where is the little idiot?"

Son of a bitch. He'd never appreciated Jason, not ever. "I don't know where he is."

"I know my son. Where else would he have gone? Except chasing your tail."

Someday, she was going to kill this man. For Jason, for her father, for Danny, even for Miles and Monroe. He'd managed to betray both of them. "Miles is going to be here any minute."

"Don't worry. We'll be long gone by the time he shows up." He pointed forward with his gun.

She started off down the path again. "Where are we going?"

"Your camp. I've been out here for days, busting my ass, looking for it. Ain't it just my lucky day. Of all the people I could have stumbled into, I stumble into you."

She turned to him. "I'm going to take you there why?"

"Cause that's where Jason is. And your life depends on it."

All the rage she'd once felt for Bass was now directed at this man. She truly hated Tom Neville.

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He heard Rachel approaching before he saw her. Apparently, her daughter had inherited all the stealth from her uncle. He checked a wound on a dead Rangers chest and stood; he'd managed to figure out the entire scene before she even made it this far down the road. Good. Hitting the dead end was a pain in his ass, but he'd managed to find a dirt path that led in the direction Rachel had gone. If he was lucky, he'd get there and find Miles before her. Take that, lady. If Charlie found Miles first, no big deal, but if Rachel did, she'd hold it over his head for years.

"Looks like he got pinned down over there." She turned, surprise on her face. "Took out six of them, some of them double taps, which means...he's probably emptied his clip. There were seven Rangers. There's one left."

"I thought we were splitting up to look for Miles."

He shouldered the rifle he'd found near one of the bodies. He thought so, too. Unfortunately, here he was. Although, now he could lead her to his best friend, prove he knew his brother best. "I hit a dead end."

Seeing something that disturbed the hell out of him, he bent down to retrieve the object. Miles's swords. He glanced up at Rachel. This was bad. "He went this way."

"What makes you so sure?"

Damn, did she always have to be contrary? How in the hell had Charlie come from this woman? "Cause it's high ground. It's good coverage. It's the best strategic position. And because I know him better than you."

"Yeah, that's why he's tried to kill you so many times." Christ, Rachel, back off. "I'm going to get Charlie."

"There's another Ranger out there, Rachel. We don't have time for this, okay." Not that he wasn't worried about Charlie; he was. He always was. But the more time passed, the more concerned he was becoming for Miles. If his best friend had been able to get to them, he would have by now. Thoughts of the Rangers capturing and torturing his brother had him on edge. And Charlie could handle herself. "We'll meet her back at the rendezvous. Let's go."

They walked in silence for a while, a bonus for which he was grateful. Cresting a ridge, they found a dilapidated house.

"We've been walking in circles. There's no sign of him."

"This is where he would have gone." But there was nothing. No sign of him anywhere. What was going on? "We should double back and see if we missed anything."

"I thought you said he would come this way."

God, she knew how to irritate every single nerve in his body. In the complete opposite way her daughter did. "Clearly, I was wrong."

"Miles!" They both started shouting for all they were worth.

Finding a different path, he headed down it. He couldn't be wrong twice. "He'd go this way."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Because I'm sure."

"Cause you're such an expert on Miles...obviously." Yeah, Charlie had inherited sarcasm from her mother. "Have you ever thought that maybe you don't know him as well as you think you do?'

"Really? Really, Rachel, you wanna do this now, huh?" All he wanted was to find his best friend and get the hell home.

"He wouldn't be in this mess if it weren't for you." She always did know how to place blame. Everywhere that was, unless it was on her.

He stared at her. Anger growing by the second, he dropped his backpack. "All right, you wanna do this. Let's do this."

"Please."

"You are a hypocritical bitch, and you are grinding him into the dirt." He got up into her face. "You look up girlfriend from hell in the dictionary. There is a full page glossy of you. With all your whining, your nagging, about doing the right thing. The good thing. You...where the hell do you get off with this holier-than-thou crap? Because lady, I know you. You're no Mother Theresa. You left your family behind; you left your daughter without a mother, not to do the right thing, but to find Miles." She'd left Danny, too, but his concern was for Charlie. Some of the things she'd told him on the way to Willoughby had broken even his hardened heart. And that was before he'd loved her. "You're a screwdriver-wielding psychopath."

That moment, when she'd shoved a screwdriver through the heart of a man she called friend, had shocked the hell out of him. Out of him! He'd never seen it coming, but she'd succeeded in keeping herself alive. And she'd done it in the coldest way imaginable. Yeah, maybe he was a little bit crazy. But so was she.

"Oh, you know me. And, uh, you know Miles."

"Damn right."

"Yeah, because I know you pretty well too, Bass, you insecure child. Miles is a good man. His only problem is you. You're like poison. You're like this devil on his back, and he knows it, and he hates you for it. And why? Why? Because you can't bear to be alone. You won't be happy until you drag him down into the mud next to you. You're that pathetic!"

Okay, now he was pissed. Like, verge-of-turning-into-the-General pissed. Did it matter that half of the things she said were true? Not really. But Miles was his family, the **only** family he had left, other than Connor. They'd always been friends, and Miles had sworn to always be on his side. And Rachel hadn't even mentioned what he'd said about Charlie. Bitch. Once upon a time he'd supported Miles in regards to her. But somewhere along the way, she'd become his nemesis. Except for that one time...

"If I'm so pathetic, Rachel, and you are so, so good. Explain to me that night in Philadelphia."

Her eyes widened in surprise. It was like an unspoken rule between them to never talk about it. One rule they'd both always held true to. "I was your prisoner."

"Nobody forced you." And that was true. He hadn't initiated it, but he hadn't stopped it either. The whole thing had been a shock, really. And he'd left her bed feeling like he'd betrayed his best friend in the worst way possible. Part of him was never sure if that was why he'd done it. To get back at Miles for abandoning him. Maybe that's why she'd done it as well.

She hauled off and slapped him, his rage turning red hot. He grabbed her by the hair and kissed her. She fought him off, pulling away and falling to the ground, stunned.

What. The. Fuck. Had he just done?

He gaped at her just as flabbergasted. He'd fucking kissed Rachel. He was in love with her daughter, and he'd fucking kissed Rachel. Idiot. What was he thinking?

He hadn't been thinking; he'd just been so mad. At Rachel for all her words, at Miles for just disappearing, at Charlie for her constant animosity towards him. And mostly at himself, for even giving a shit about any of them.

It was a weakness, this need to belong, to be one of them. He should be off with Connor, trying to restart the Republic with his son. But the fact is he couldn't leave these people. At least, he couldn't leave Charlie and Miles. He...loved them both too much.

That night in Philly, for him, had never been about love. Or even lust, really. He'd never lusted after Rachel, not before and not since. It had been about loneliness and loss, and yes, even a little payback for being the one left behind. But more than anything, it had been about needing to connect for one crazy night, where they'd both honestly had too much to drink. To connect to one person who knew him before the Blackout, before the Republic, before all the insanity he'd fallen into. Rachel had started it, and he'd just gone along for the ride. And then, knowing she'd enjoyed herself, he used it against her. Every single time they were alone.

But she'd also used it against him. In any way her brilliant brain could come up with. They never spoke about the sex again, but the taunts were there for both of them, just under the surface.

No wonder they hated each other so much.

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He'd been taunting her the entire walk back to camp. Insulting her, calling Jason names. Being around Tom Neville was starting to take its toll on Charlie.

She led him to the safe house away from the others. No way could she, or would she, lead him to their actual camp. He trailed behind her, sweeping into each room, gun cocked and at the ready for a trap. The paranoia that followed these men who had been in the militia must have been oppressive. She would have guessed that was the way Monroe had wanted it, if he hadn't been the most paranoid of all. Of course, that might have kept them all alive, too.

Finding no one in the house, Neville turned the gun on her. "What the hell is this?"

"Probably out to scout. Jason's with them. They'll be back." She slipped her fingers under the table, reaching for the knife she'd taped there for just such a situation. Neville saw her before she could grab it, and he shoved her across the room. She fell to the floor, and he yanked the knife down, tossing it aside.

"My patience has reached an end." Neville's voice was tight, and he advanced on her, forcing her back against the wall. "You are going to take me to Jason, or you're going to die."

She couldn't stop the sorrow that briefly crossed her face. Though, she tried to hide it quickly; he saw it anyway. First rule of being a prisoner, Charlie. Never let them see what you're thinking. Miles and Monroe would be so disappointed. "What was that?"

"What?"

"On your face." For the first time since this had started, Neville faltered a bit. "Where...is...Jason?"

"I don't know." God, this was killing her. Denying it, denying the horrible thing she had done.

"You're lying. Why?" Tears formed in his eyes. "Is he hurt?"

"No, he's fine." What could she do? She couldn't handle it anymore.

"He is hurt." The tears were coming, and soon, they would be unstoppable. She sighed, and his expression changed. "Is he dead?"

All the training, all the effort she'd put into becoming just like her uncle and Bass, it was gone. Just all gone. She was that little girl who'd left Wisconsin to find Danny all over again.

"No...that's not...no..." Neville cocked his gun, pointed it at her face. And fired. He fired off five shots.

All of them were planted in the plaster above her.

Crouched low, she huddled against the wall, hands covering her head. He fisted her shirt and pulled her up. The trembles just kept coursing through her body. "Was it Monroe? Was it Miles? Oh, yeah, had to be Miles. He always had it out for the boy. This is what is going to happen. You're bait. I'm going to use you to draw in Monroe, Miles, your mother, everyone. And I'm going to work my way through them until I figure this out."

No, she wasn't going to let that happen. In a way, Neville did her a favor. The only way to bring back the soldier she needed to be was to threaten her family. Ignoring the tears streaming down her face, she exhaled and met Tom's eyes. "It was me."

The confusion on the man's face might have been comical under other circumstances. "Please. Out of all the people that would want to do this to him, you wouldn't."

"Yeah, I didn't think I could either. The Patriots must have read that number, and they turned him into something that he wasn't." Neville's head dropped as if it was too much to hear. "He was trying to kill me. I begged him to stop. Believe me, it was the last thing I wanted to do. But he wouldn't stop. I car-cared about him. I cared about him, and that's what I did to him. And I hate myself for it. So if you're going to kill me, you should just do it."

Did she want to die? Right in this moment, no. She wanted to see Miles and her mother. And Monroe. She just really wanted to see him one more time. Would she tell him how she felt about him? She wasn't sure. But she wanted at least a chance to let him know that he meant a lot to her, and his friendship had become an important part of her life.

Neville put the gun to her head and stared at her. She'd done this once before, but Strausser hadn't actually placed the cold steel to her temple. She wondered now if Bass would have let it get that far. But he was General Monroe then, not Bass. God, everything felt so jumbled in her head. Fear and grief were muddying her brain.

He pulled the trigger.

And the world righted itself. No bullets. Her mind cleared as she realized just how close to death she'd come. But she'd been spared by the lack of little metal projectiles.

The tears kept flowing as she looked up at Tom Neville. She hated this man, almost more than she had ever hated Monroe. This was the man who had directly caused her father's death; the man who captured Danny; the man who tortured Jason because he felt he was too weak. And right at this moment, she felt bad for him. All that mattered in the world was that he'd lost his son.

And he would never have a chance to fix things with Jason. She had a few people in her own life she needed to make things right with.

She stepped past him, leaving him there, half broken and alone.

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He said nothing to Rachel, and she said nothing to him. They continued searching for Miles, but communication between the two of them was non-existent. Apparently, they were both content to just pretend it had never happened.

Monroe was sick over it. What in the hell had caused him to kiss her? And it wasn't some underlying shit, some psychiatric shit, like he secretly harbored feelings for Rachel. He didn't. The feelings he had for her, both underlying and on the surface, were annoyance and disgust. But she'd pissed him off so much, claiming she was his prisoner, like he'd forced her. She'd started the whole thing! Christ, they'd drank too much; they started talking about the years before the Blackout; and then, boom, she'd had her tongue down his throat. He'd been shocked, but he'd been lonely, and so he'd jumped right in.

And, okay, yeah, now that he was analyzing it, he really did want to hurt his best friend. What better way than to sleep with the one woman he truly loved? Emma was different; Miles had loved her, but not like Rachel. And Miles knew he'd loved Emma from the time they were ten. The fact that they hooked up one night was almost inevitable. Was it a shitty thing to do? Yeah. But if Miles knew about Rachel, it wouldn't be as easy to pass off.

But the kiss? My God, he wanted Charlie. He wanted her with all of his being. She was supposed to be nothing more than his ticket back to Miles, but she'd become, well...everything. He hadn't looked for it; he certainly hadn't wanted it to happen. But against all better judgment, it had. And he was in deep. Actually, it was possible he hadn't ever been in love with anyone the way he was with Charlie. He'd loved Emma. He'd loved Shelly, truly; he had wanted to make a life with her and their child. But Charlie...she had done the one thing no one else could. Charlie had shut down the darkness.

No matter what Rachel, or Miles, thought of him, he had changed, was still changing. For Charlie.

So he'd kissed her mother because...he had nothing, no clue. He didn't like the implication that he'd forced her somehow; he was an asshole, had done terrible things, true, but he'd never raped a woman in his life. And he certainly hadn't started with Rachel. But she'd put it out there like he had. Then she'd slapped him. And his only thought had been to do the thing that would anger her most of all. Had he kissed her just to piss her off? Maybe he had.

Her voice brought him out of his head and back to the task of locating his best friend.

"It's his coat. Miles!" She kneeled by the lump of material. It looked like he'd dumped it and kept going. Her hands rifled through the black fabric and came away stained red.

A knot formed in his stomach. "No, tha-that's someone else's blood."

"Nope. It's on the inside. Bass..." She looked up at him, her voice trembling with panic. "It's too much blood."

They both loved this man. And, though Rachel didn't know it, they both loved Charlie as well. Just like that, all the years fell away. She was his friend; she was scared, and he wanted to comfort her. "Hey, Rachel, look at me. You know Miles. I've seen him take a hell of a lot worse than this. You kick that guy in the teeth, he jumps straight back up, and he kicks back twice as hard. The son of a bitch is too stubborn to die. We're going to find him, ok?"

She stared at him, a little bit of understanding in her big blue eyes. This was a truce. Maybe it would last until they found Miles, maybe it would last longer; he couldn't be sure. But they were in it together. "Yeah. Yeah, you're right."

This was a wakeup call. There was a lot he needed to do. Finding his brother and finally setting things right with the woman he loved topped that list.

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He watched her walk off, alone. She waited until Connor was occupied with the men, then slipped away. He followed her, lagging behind only enough to keep her in his sights.

She'd been quiet since he and Rachel got back to camp to find her already there. They hadn't found Miles, and neither had she, but he could sense there was something else going on with her. That unspoken connection really hadn't gone away; it had just been buried for a while. He'd sent Rachel to her tent to lie down, her worry for Miles overtaking all else. Truth be told, he was worried for his best friend as well, but at the moment, his concern for Charlie was foremost in his mind.

The moon shone off the water of the little lake he found her by. There was a stream that passed by the camp, so most of their crew didn't bother with the lake. Sometimes, he liked the solitude of the place; he guessed Charlie did as well. She sat, staring out over the water, a faraway look on her face. He kept his distance for a moment, watching her intently.

"You're allowed to come closer, you know."

He smiled. "I was a bit worried you weren't paying attention to your surroundings."

"You know me. Always a good soldier." The tone of her voice was odd.

"Charlie, what's wrong?" She turned, a protest on her lips. "And don't give me that nothing crap, cause we both know that's not true."

She looked back out over the shimmering lake. The silence stretched out for a few minutes, and he began to wonder if she would ever respond. "Will you sit?"

He came to her, dropping down beside her on a mossy log. Things between them were a mess, but he had a chance here to finally make it right. "Charlie, I know we've had some...issues, you and I. The things I've done to your family, they can't be forgiven. And I can never make up for them, no matter how hard I try. But I want you to know, I am sorry. Sorry for so many things."

She sat as still as a statue, and when she finally spoke, she kept her face forward. "Would you...now...would you let Strausser hold a gun on me?"

"Jesus, no." He was horrified. She couldn't honestly think he would allow anyone to threaten her ever again. "I was screwed up, Charlie. It's not an excuse. But I'm...not that man anymore. And I don't ever want to be him again."

She turned, fiery blue eyes burning into him. "But you do want to bring the Republic back. Don't you think it will happen all over again?"

"That's not what I want. I don't want a rehash of what we had before." He sighed; how could he make her understand? "I want to pass a legacy along to my son. And I want to teach him all the things I did wrong, so he won't make the same mistakes. He can make it better, Charlie. He can make it what I didn't. A place for people to be safe...the way Miles and I envisioned it from the start. There could be a place for you too, if you want it."

"For me?"

"Yeah, you and Miles. You're about the best moral compass anyone could ever ask for." With Connor and Charlie, the Republic would most certainly thrive. And it could wash away all the terrible things he'd done. Then maybe none of it would be in vain. "If you guys took over, maybe your uncle and I could finally retire from the fighting business. Just sit out and fish, like we did when we were kids."

She narrowed her eyes. "You want to take the Republic back, and then not run it?"

"I don't want to be president again, Charlie. I told you that on the way back to Willoughby. I want revenge, and I want something to hand over to Connor, but I don't want to lead. I'm a good leader in the field, but being in charge of the whole shebang...that's not a good place for me." He studied her for a moment. He had many more things to apologize for, so he might as well start somewhere. "By the way, I know you think I was insulting your leadership skills when I told Scanlon an experienced leader was best. But I wasn't. I just didn't want you to have to lead the men into battle. Not because you're not good. Hell, Charlie, I trust you more than most of the men I know."

"You don't want me to lead the men, but you want me to help lead the Republic?" She sounded confused.

"It's a different beast. Diplomacy is needed for a presidency. And I think you know, I don't really have any of that." She snorted softly. "To lead men into battle, you have to make tough decisions. Decisions that can get people killed, and sometimes do. And that's something you have to deal with for the rest of your life. I didn't want you to have to live with that."

She glanced away, but not before he saw tears form in her eyes. "But now I do."

"Charlie, it's not the same thing. Jason was activated by those Patriots. You did what you had to do to stay alive."

"He would have killed me."

"I know." And he wasn't sure if he could live with that.

"I loved him...once."

That broke his heart. He loved her and watching her suffer was torture. But few people understood the pain of loss the way Bass did. "I know what it's like...to lose someone you love."

"Your family...in the car accident." He looked at her, and their eyes met. "Miles told me. Before the Blackout. I'm sorry."

He swallowed. The conversation was about to get a whole lot worse. "Thank you."

"But this is different. It was my fault, Bass. I killed Jason. I picked up the gun and shot him."

"Because you had no choice. And you weren't the one who set him off."

"It's still my fault." Tears were following freely now, and it took all of his willpower to not just reach over and gather her into his arms. "I pulled the trigger."

Oh, God, he was going to have to bring up the past that he rarely thought about. But he loved her, and if it could help her, he would dive back into the black pit of despair he'd spent so much time escaping from. "You can blame yourself, Charlie. I know what that's like, too."

"Emma."

She whispered the name, but he heard it. It was one of the many he blamed himself for, but it wasn't the most heinous. "Yes, Charlie, I'm responsible for Emma's death."

"You didn't actually shoot her."

"I dragged her into the middle of a gunfight. And incidentally, I set the church she, and all the rest of the town, was locked in on fire. So, yeah, that's on me." He'd gotten angry during his little rant and forced himself to calm down. She didn't need any aggression at this point, even if all of it was self-directed. There was a question he'd wanted to ask since they reunited at the bottom of a pool outside New Vegas. "Who shot her?"

Wiping the tears from her cheeks, she looked at him, surprise on her face. She must have thought Miles told him, but he still had no clue. Please, don't say Miles. Or yourself.

"Dixon." Thank God. "Miles shot him two seconds after he shot Emma."

He would have to thank his brother for that one the next time he saw him. "Good."

She was staring at him, as if wondering whether she should say what she was thinking. "I would have taken that shot, Bass. If Dixon hadn't...to kill you."

That was not something he wanted to dwell on at the moment; although, he could hardly blame her for wanting him dead. He was just glad she hadn't been the one to kill Connor's mother. "I guess that's not surprising."

"Though right now, if I had succeeded, I would regret it."

Did she honestly just admit she didn't want him to die? That maybe she even gave a damn. "Good to know."

"I don't know if I can live with this, Bass."

"You can, Charlie. And you will." He wondered if she knew she was using his nickname. The only other time he'd ever heard her use it was that once in New Vegas, when everything had seemed so new and bright before them, right before it all turned to shit. "I can't tell you the pain will ever go away. I can't even tell you it will ever get easier. I can tell you that...no matter how much it seems like you can't face another day, you can. Life just goes on, even if you don't want it to. You just deal with it. Anyway you can."

"We're not talking about Emma anymore, are we?"

Lost in his head, her words dragged him back. His head snapped in her direction, and once more, two shades of blue fell into each other. This was the most painful thing for him to talk about, and most of the people who knew about it were dead. Only Miles, and Tom Neville, unbelievably. His voice was ragged when he spoke. "No, we're not."

"What..."

The simple question hung in the air. God, help him get through this. "A few years after the Blackout, I got married. Or the equivalent of marriage in those early years."

"Married?" Her shock was evident.

"Surprised? That someone would marry me?"

"No...I just didn't know."

"Her name was Shelly. And I loved her. I was...happy. Maybe the first time I'd been completely happy since that phone call telling me my parents and sisters were dead." He had to pause, had to collect his thoughts. The next part would be the most difficult. He could already feel the lump forming in his throat. Tears would be next; tears he was no longer afraid to shed in front of Charlie. "She got...pregnant. We were over the moon. It was my chance to have a family again. Other than your uncle."

He didn't realize he'd stopped talking until Charlie nudged him with her elbow. "What happened?"

"She died. In childbirth." God, he could remember that horrible day as if it was yesterday. "There was a woman, a nurse, she'd worked in the maternity ward for years before the Blackout. She was helping Shelly deliver the baby. She was in labor, but she was still joking around with me. That was so like her. It was hot in the tent, and the nurse told me to step outside for a minute. To calm myself down, to give Shelly a chance to cool off, get some air inside the tent. I did. I-I stepped outside for like a minute, a minute."

And his world collapsed in just 60 seconds. "Bass?"

"I was outside with Miles. The nurse came to get me. She asked for towels and water. Miles and Tom Neville went to go get them. By the time they got back she-she was gone. And my daughter along with her." He was crying now, like he hadn't since it had happened. He already knew Charlie was reigniting things inside him, things long dead. And as much as it hurt, it felt like some of the filth of the last decade was washing away. Maybe some tears were cleansing after all.

He was stunned when he felt two arms encircle him. It took him a minute to respond, but then his arms wrapped around her, and he held on for all he was worth. She was sobbing, too, and her head tucked against his shoulder, wetting his shirt with her tears. What a picture they probably made; the ex-dictator and the naive little-girl-turned-warrior clinging to one another as they cried.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't know. I didn't know." She repeated those words over and over.

They held onto each other for a few more minutes, before he pulled away enough to gaze into her beautiful, sapphire eyes. His thumbs swept across her face, brushing the tears away. His heart was full; she had wept for him. It wasn't a declaration of love or anything, but she had shed tears on his behalf. God, he loved her. "You're not the only one, Charlie, who blames themselves for the death of someone they loved."

"Bass, you didn't kill her. Shelly wasn't your fault."

"I got her pregnant. If I hadn't, she might still be alive. She died. I lived. " He blamed himself for so many, but Shelly, the one he didn't actually cause, was the one he felt most responsible for. Survivor's guilt was a bitch.

"You were in love. You wanted to have children."

"It wasn't planned."

"Oh, Bass, you loved her, and she got pregnant. It's not your fault she died and you lived. Most of it was out of your control. "

"Just like with Jason Neville." Her blue eyes still glistened with tears as she gaped at him. "It's not your fault you lived and he died. You didn't activate him, Charlie. The Patriots did that. The rest was out of your control."

"But-"

"No, I blame myself for Shelly's death, but I know there was nothing I could do. The nurse told me that even with the modern medicine of pre-Blackout, they may not have been able to save her, considering what the complications were. Imagine that. If the power had never gone out, she might have died anyway." The nurse had explained everything to him, and even though he'd been almost comatose, he'd heard the words. Never made him feel any better. "You can blame yourself for Jason, Charlie. I'm not telling you not to. But ultimately, it's not on you."

They sat in silence for a few minutes. When she spoke, her voice was quiet. "Thank you, Bass."

Well, he'd come this far. There was a lot more he had to say. He couldn't afford to hold anything back. Time to lay out all the cards. "I should have said something when it first happened. But you seemed so stoic. I tried to be nonchalant about it, to give you what you needed in that moment."

She nodded. "I couldn't have talked about it then."

"I should also apologize for what I said about you and Connor. About sneaking off and...it was vulgar. And I never should have said it to you." God, this was hard. He never did this. He said what he wanted to when he wanted to; he didn't care if anyone was offended or not. But he was rarely that obnoxious to a beautiful woman. With Charlie, he'd reverted back to a grade-schooler teasing the girl he liked. Idiot.

"Wow. I didn't expect that. And look at that. The world didn't end."

"Shut up. And don't get used to it," he groaned, knowing he would probably apologize any time he hurt her. Even if it took him days to get around to it.

"Okay." She chuckled. "But you do know, Connor and I only slept together once."

Thank you, God. He finally had an answer to the question. "Not interested?"

"It was a one time thing, and...it was probably a mistake. Connor just wasn't what I was looking for."

"What are you looking for?"

"Right now, nothing. I just want to find Miles and fight these Patriot bastards." She locked eyes with him, tilting her head down coyly. Little vixen. "But after the fight is over, I'll let you know."

They were flirting. Jesus, they were actually flirting. The banter was back, the bond, and the most important part, the friendship. He loved her to distraction, but her friendship was just as important. He was lost to this young woman. "I'll hold my breath."

She laughed again, and it was music to his ears. "I bet you will."

If they were going to clear the air between them, there was one more thing he was going to have to reveal. Should he take his time or just spit it out? He always found it better to rip the Band-Aid right off. "I kissed your mother."

Her eyes nearly popped out of her head. "Excuse me?"

"It was today. When we were looking for Miles." He was disgusted with himself, so how could she be anything but?

"Today?" She looked like an owl, eyes wide, blinking at him. "I thought you meant a long time ago."

"We were fighting about...we slept together once when we were in Philly." The words tumbled out of his mouth. There was silence, and then...laughter? "You're laughing?"

She was in hysterics, which subsided into a choking cough. He pounded her on the back a few times to clear her lungs. "I'm sorry. I'm just...I'm trying to imagine you and...mom..."

He was kind of upset. He thought she would be a little angry, maybe just to assure him that there were mutual feelings between the two of them. He couldn't have misread the signals again, no way. "You think it's funny."

"Oh, Bass, come on. You and my mother. She hates you more than I ever did."

"I just thought you'd be a little..."

"Pissed?" She smirked at him. "Jealous?"

"Maybe."

She sobered a bit. "Was it after my uncle left?"

"Yes."

"Do you love her? Or where you just trying to get back at Miles for abandoning you?"

How could she automatically understand that when he'd really only figured it out earlier that day? And, no, of course he didn't love Rachel. He didn't answer, just held her gaze with his.

"That's what I thought." She covered his hand with hers. "Did you force her?'

"God, no. That's what she said. That's why-"

"Why you kissed her." Hand still on his, she looked away. "I guess I always thought something must have happened. She's mad about Danny, of course. But it's more than that. I imagine she's mad at herself, for what she would consider a moment of weakness. So, in spite of the fact that you've done some good things, it's easier for her to believe you're still just that dictator that held her captive and forced her hand."

Damn, she was spot on. He'd told her that she was a lot like her mother once, and he'd meant it. Her fighting spirit, her sarcasm, and her beauty, those were attributes from her mother. Though, she was even more beautiful than Rachel. But, truly, Charlie was all Matheson. Still, she knew her mother well.

"There were just some things I was confused about."

"But not anymore?" she asked.

"No, not anymore." And in that moment he knew; he'd never been so head over heels before. Charlotte Matheson was the love of his life.

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He'd come to find her. Just as she'd decided to fix the problems between them, he'd come to her. After her run-in with Neville, she realized she wasn't as ready to give it all up and die as she'd thought. She wanted to live, and she wanted that...whatever it was with Bass back.

And he'd been sweeter than she'd ever imagined he could be. And he'd told her that heart-breaking story about his wife and child. She'd known he was an evil psycho, but she'd never realized there was something that turned him into that. Now she could see the moment that Bass, the loyal, funny, charming friend Miles spoke of, morphed into General Monroe. Or at least started on the path to becoming him.

And he'd relived all that anguish just to help her deal with Jason's death. She'd been right. He was her best friend. But more than that, she was in love with him. And she was pretty sure he felt it, too.

And the sleeping with Rachel thing, eh, whatever. If the bigger issues between them, like death and pain, hadn't broken them, she didn't think this would. God, she was going to crack up the next time she saw her mother. Although, she'd keep it to herself; it was probably best if Rachel didn't know she knew.

"So, Charlotte, tell me something," Bass said. "You seem more...positive than you did before. For a while there you seemed very...well, let's just say it's good to see you got your fire back. What caused it?"

"Tom Neville." Which made her wonder more about Neville, Miles, and Monroe. He'd been in that camp with them. A story for another time, perhaps.

"Excuse me?" Confusion lined his face.

"When we were looking for Miles and split up, he, uh, accosted me."

"He what?" His voice got quiet. And deadly.

"He found me, and he...you know what, Bass, it doesn't matter."

"Like hell it doesn't." He grabbed her shoulders and spun her towards him. "Did he hurt you? What did he do to you?"

She loved him, but she was never going to be a mousy little woman to be manhandled. She pulled away. "Bass, calm down."

He stood up. "Calm down? I'm going to kill the son of a bitch for touching you."

"Bass."

"No, Charlotte, I mean it. He's dead. He just happened to find you, huh? Bastard was lying in wait for you." He paced back and forth, all pent up fury and rage. She wanted to yell and be mad at him, but, actually, it was kind of hot. "I got stuck at a dead end. Found a path that put me on the same road as your mother. You know why I was so happy to be there before her, because I wanted to be the one to find Miles, before Rachel could. To prove I'm his best friend. That I know him better than her. So while I'm out there traipsing around, kissing your frickin' mother, Tom Neville attacks you. Christ, I should have killed the man with my bare hands when I had the chance."

She just sat there letting him run his mouth. "Are you done?'

"He could have killed you."

"He could have. He almost did."

All the wind seemed to flow out of his sails, and he plopped back down on the log beside her. His voice was raspy when he spoke. "He almost killed you?"

"He had a gun to my head." She pulled her hair back to reveal the welt the barrel had left on her forehead. A shaky hand reached out to touch her skin, fingertips gently caressing the red mark. His hand slid down to her cheek, and their eyes met. "And then he pulled the trigger."

"Son of a..."

"And in that moment, I realized I wasn't ready to die. I want to live, Bass."

He smiled at her. Not that cocky ass Sebastian Monroe grin, but the sweet smile that she'd only seen once or twice before. She loved it. And him. But she wasn't sure if she was ready to move their relationship to the next level yet. They had this battle to fight, and she needed him to be her partner, to fight at her side, before anything else could happen between them. After the Patriots, maybe they'd talk again. He seemed to sense her hesitance and backed off a bit. "Well, I guess we have to make sure you keep going then, huh?"

"Guess so."

"Charlie, I've been running around in so many directions. Letting your uncle pull me one way, your mother pull me another, Connor pull me in a third. I love my son. I want to give him something. But...maybe we all need to discuss the Republic together. I swear one thing to you. I've got your back."

"I know." She leaned her head against his shoulder, as he laced his fingers through hers. This was exactly what she needed. ""Thank you, Bass. For everything."

"I'm around, Charlie. Anytime." She'd said something similar to her uncle on the night Bass had 'died'. It was comforting, and she snuggled her head a little deeper into his shoulder. She smiled when she felt the gentle kiss on her hair. "And we'll find Miles."

"I know we will." They all needed and loved him. He was the cog holding all of the spokes of the wheel together. The two most important men in her life. Miles and Bass.

"Bass?"

"Hmm?"

"Maybe we should keep all this just between us."

He chuckled. "That goes without saying, Charlie."

He had shared more than ever before, and she felt so much closer to him now. It was even better than the way things had been before Mexico, before Connor. She sighed. But she still had to find a way to tell him her suspicions about his son. Without ruining the new-found peace between them. "Can I talk to you about something?"

"Yeah, of course." He pulled away to look down at her.

"And you'd listen?" His eyebrow lifted. "Even if it was about Connor."

He looked down, then met her eyes again. "I'm listening."

She took a deep breath and dove into the deep end.

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She was cleaning up as he walked into the room. They hadn't exactly been on the best of terms lately, not since she found out about the whole take-back-the-Republic thing they had going. But he knew she was joining his father and Rachel on another search for Miles.

"It'll be nightfall in an hour. You really going back out?"

"Yeah, I have to."

This was insane. Everyone, his dad included, was putting themselves at risk to hunt for Miles. The man was a fighter, and if no one had found him yet, he was probably dead. It irked him that Charlie wanted to keep looking, but he was her uncle; he could kind of understand. But Monroe? Why the hell did he keep putting Miles Matheson first? Connor no longer believed it was for the good of the Republic.

"Look, I'm sorry for having to say this. Whatever happened to Miles, if he could have gotten out by now, he would have." If any Matheson was useful to the Republic, it was this one. She was a good fighter, a good soldier, and she did what needed to be done when necessary. Killing her ex certainly proved it to him. What she didn't have was Rachel breathing down her neck like Miles did. Oh, he was sure Rachel told her about it, but Charlie chose to listen only when she wanted to.

Although, he had noticed her treatment of Monroe had changed. All the banter and flirting they did before New Vegas was gone. He'd almost forgotten he had once wondered if she had a thing for his father. Maybe the idea of her joining their quest was stupid one.

"You see this?" She pulled her hair back and showed him the red mark near her temple. "It's from Neville shoving his gun in my face, after I asked him to shoot me. And just as he was pulling the trigger, no going back, every single part of my body started screaming 'I don't want to die'. But it was too late. He pulled the trigger, and his gun was empty."

He did feel bad for her. They'd only slept together the once, but he'd liked her. Probably would have kept up the sex if she had wanted to, but she'd broken that off immediately. Still, it's not like he'd wanted her to die.

"I don't think I deserve it, but somehow, I'm getting a second chance. I get to wake up and see tomorrow, and I guess I want to. So now, I need to figure out what kind of tomorrow I want to see. And I'll tell you one thing; whatever it looks like, I want Miles to be there."

Jesus, why was everyone so obsessed with Miles? No, maybe obsession wasn't a good word for it...loyalty. All of these people, his damn father one of them, were so loyal to Miles. At this point, Monroe was showing more allegiance to his friend than to his son. And it was pissing Connor right off. A week ago, he'd been proud, watching General Monroe come out to play as they took care of the Patriot camp. But now, Monroe's main concern was finding Miles. Yeah, his dad was going back out there with Charlie and her mother.

He followed her out of the tent, watching Monroe and Rachel prep for the day. They filled water bottles, exchanged weapons; hell, they looked like a goddamn team. They hated one another, yet they were working together to find the man they both loved. He swore he might have thought his father had a boner for the man, if he didn't see the way he still looked at Charlie. Yeah, she might not have a thing for his old man, but he was still jonesing for her. He watched Charlie walk up to them, the three setting off, their faces determined.

Maybe it would be best if the missing man was never found. Because Miles Matheson was becoming a giant pain in the ass.

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**That conversation was one I was dying for them to have on the show, at least a little piece of it anyway. But alas, I had to make it up instead.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you to all those who reviewed. I really appreciate it, and I'm glad you're enjoying. **

**Dialogue taken from Tomorrowland. I don't own Revolution, not yet anyway. Maybe someday, all of us fans WILL own the show, especially if we get it relocated. Then it's ours! And then maybe David Lyons can be mine also...**

**Let's stick with the fight, Revolutionaries! #RelocateRevolution**

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She was not going to give up, no matter how long it took. Things were better, with Monroe, with her mom. She was facing a new outlook on life. There was only one problem.

Miles was still missing.

The three of them had headed out once again, hoping to find him, deciding once again that splitting up was the best way to go. Although Bass insisted they stick closer to one another in case help was needed. She was on what she believed was an old golf course; though she'd never really seen one so she couldn't be sure. Dropping her pack and pulling out her canteen for a sip of water, she called out his name again. Where the hell was he?

She slid the canteen back into it's compartment, then flipped the strap over one shoulder, ready to give up on this area and head in a different direction. She shouted his name, glancing over her shoulder one last time. And saw a bloody hand reaching up out of the thick grass.

"Mom!" She ran for him, falling to his side and trying to cradle his head. "Okay, I got you. Mom!"

"Charlie." His voice was barely a whisper, and it sounded thready and unstable.

"It's okay. You're going to be okay." He had to be. Because Charlie couldn't imagine her life without him.

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It had been a week. Gene had spent most of his time hovering over him and putting something that felt disgusting and smelled even worse onto his wound. Quite frankly, he was sick of all the fuss being made. He was fine; he hadn't gotten an infection or lost a limb, so in his book, all was pretty well.

In the five days since he'd been back, he'd been bombarded with visitors. And Gene had restricted access to him, except for his immediate family. Which meant he'd spent hours on end with Rachel, Charlie, and Bass. Just rarely all at the same time. Right now, it was Rachel's turn to play babysitter.

Deciding he'd had just about enough, he sat up and shifted his weight off the cot. Jesus, he was going to get bedsores if he stayed another minute.

"Stay in bed, you dummy," Gene said, turning away from mixing up another potion of foulness to apply to his skin.

"If I have to lay here one more minute, I'm gonna kill myself. And then kill you."

Rachel pushed away from the wall and helped him slip his jacket on. "At least he's feeling better."

All right, so it still hurt. Big frickin' deal. He'd had worse. He caught Rachel staring at him. "It's not as bad as it looks."

"I'm just glad you got out."

"Well, it was...it was because of this." He fished the little triangular piece of plastic out of his pocket and held it out to her. She shook her head. "You don't remember."

Bass interrupted, right on schedule. Pain in the ass.

"There he is. I brought you some medicine." His best friend held a full bottle of whiskey out to him. "That's if it's okay with mom."

Rachel scoffed, rolling her eyes and moving away from them. These two. These two and their bickering were going to kill him eventually. Just, you know, not right at the moment. Things to do and all.

He glanced at the liquor, a touch of longing pulling at him, then shook his head. "Yeah, you know, maybe later."

Bass chuckled. "Since when do you ever refuse a drink? In the history of ever? Come on."

He was about to say no again, deciding for once that maybe being even a little drunk wasn't such a good idea. They needed to set things in motion here, and he was going to need all of his wits about him. All of a sudden, he heard the sound of flapping and birds squawking. They all stepped out of the tent and watched as flocks sailed off into the distance.

He exchanged a look with Bass, their silent chat broken up when Aaron bolted past them. "I think we should run!"

Monroe's brow scrunched up. "What got into Fatboy Slim?"

Miles had no idea, but the look he saw on his best friend's face as it focused over his shoulder warned him all was not okay. He whipped his head around and saw it. The distinct yellow-brown cloud wafting right toward their camp.

Those sons of bitches had released mustard gas on them. "Everybody run!"

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Where the hell was she? Where the hell was she!

He ran, his eyes seeking her out everywhere. They all had to get out of there, but he needed to know that Charlie was safe. And Connor. Glancing to his right side, Monroe caught sight of them both, running and shoving each other further out of the way of the poisonous gas. At least they were protecting each other.

He heard Miles shout to get to higher ground, then watched in horror as some of their people ran up the steps of the deserted power plant they used as base, only to be shot from phantom assassins hidden within the yellow cloud. He'd been in enough wars in his life to know the deal; the Patriots had obtained mustard gas, along with the protective gear and gas masks needed to freely walk around in it. They were killing the people who hadn't made it out. The rest of them were just sitting ducks.

Hurrying to meet up with his son and his...oh, what the hell, his woman, he grabbed Connor's collar and pushed him ahead, making sure Charlie kept up as well. "Move! Go!"

The gas cloud was approaching too fast; dear God, he wasn't letting his family go out this way. Miles shouting brought his attention to the overturned truck, and he shoved Charlie towards it. She struggled to open the hatch, and he moved her aside, yanking the rusted metal up, adrenaline pumping. She scurried in, the rest of their group following closely behind. Miles brought up the rear, sealing the door just as he saw the cloud cover the truck's cab.

In the darkness of the truck, lit only by the lighter Gene carried, he and Connor kept their guns on the hatch as Miles held it in place, waiting for the Patriots to sweep the area. Blasts could be heard in the distance, the sound of their people being gunned down. In all honesty, it made him sick. Not just because the Patriots were killing their own, but because it made him think of the rebels. He'd never released mustard gas, but he'd certainly done enough other things to torment his enemies.

One look at Charlie, at her tilted head, and his mind cleared. The woman could read his thoughts, and the dark path they were traveling, and rip him back out of his own despair. A secret smile passed between them; how he loved her.

As the gunshots got closer, Scanlon popped up from the corner, anxiously stepping toward the hatch. "Screw this! I got to get out there. Get to my guys."

Never gonna happen, kid. But Miles answered. "You do that, we're all dead. Now be quiet."

A clunk against the metal moved them all into action. He dove at the hatch, holding it in place with his best friend, Charlie whipping out her gun to back up Connor. After a few minutes, silence resumed. Might just get out of this yet.

A few holes pierced the metal side of the truck, and they all ducked down for cover. When the firing stopped, he, Connor, and Charlie pressed their arms over the openings, using the leather of their jackets to protect their skin. They couldn't afford to let the toxic gas in their hideout. His eyes met Miles's. Well, this was unexpected.

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Charlie sat huddled by the fire, a blanket draped around her shoulders, courtesy of her grandfather. They'd waited in the truck until nightfall, and now, their entire gang was holed up in an abandoned gas station. Except Miles and Monroe. The two had been with them on the way back, but now they were missing. She wondered what was up. They'd been having a silent conversation inside the back of the truck. Having that same ability with Bass, she knew something big was about to go down. The mustard gas attack had obviously changed a few of their plans. But in what way.

Miles entered a minute later, dabbing at his wound with a cloth. Bass followed shortly after. She heard them murmuring about Miles's injury.

"We've only got ten rounds left."

"What are you thinking?" Miles asked.

"That's the way they want to play it. Mustard gas." His eyes met hers briefly. He was pissed. About this new vicious attack by the enemy. He was worried for her, for what might have happened. And suddenly, she saw the plan unfolding. How in the world had they ever developed this intense connection? He turned back to her uncle. "Then we hit them back, and we hit them hard, twice as hard. We're going to beat them at their own game."

Charlie saw the concern on her mother's face. The hesitation. That all of this would go too far.

"You want to steal some?" Miles asked.

"One can. You stick that in the right place, we take out 50 Patriots, maybe more."

"And, uh, what's the right place?"

"Wherever it hurts them most." Shades of the General were coloring his face, and she prayed to God he'd be able to hold back just enough. Just so that the crazy deep underneath didn't crawl to the surface once again. "Even if that's the middle of Willoughby."

Would he really do that? Once the answer was a resounding yes, but now...

"I'm not going to hear it, not from that bitch." She cringed on her mother's behalf. "Not from the old man and certainly not from you. I am done talking now, Miles. I am done."

"All right, shut up for a second-"

"No!" Miles tried to quiet him, but it wasn't working. "We sit around here, cupping our lady parts. Arguing about right and wrong, meanwhile we are losing, Miles! We lost 20 men today!"

Bass had a point, but at what cost? She really hated this whole plan.

"The only thing that matters, Miles, is beating these guys. If we have to take out some nowhere town in the process, then so be it. Cause it's war. And the guy I knew used to understand that."

"All right, okay! I get it." She watched her mother watching the two men. 'I'm in."

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Stepping up to Scanlon, Bass handed him a blade. "We're going to get you some payback."

He turned as Miles exited the station, trailed by Rachel. This was going to be interesting. Front row seat to the fight of the year.

"All right, come on. Let's hear it. Get it out of your system," Miles said.

"I'm sorry what? What exactly do you want me to say?" God, she was so good at playing naive.

"You know, how I'm a son of a bitch for stealing this gas. How it's going to kill a bunch of innocent people." Wow, Miles was laying it on thick, too. He rolled his eyes. What a bunch of saps.

"Not this time. You don't care. Why should I?"

"I don't have a lot of options." At least Miles was seeing what he'd been saying all along. They were running slim on choices and trustworthy people.

"Please, this is about you and Bass and whatever the hell that is." Oh, cripe, not Rachel, too. She'd slept with both of them, did she really think that he and Miles...what the hell was he going to have to do to squash that rumor for good? "I have never been able to compete, and I'm done trying. You and me...we're done. Bass wins."

All right, he had to admit, that felt a little bit good. The two of them would probably never stop fighting over Miles, so, yeah, he liked the idea of winning. Of course, Rachel had no idea that they might start fighting over someone else very soon. Where the hell was Charlie anyway?

Miles stalked past him, shooting him a look that said 'shut up' and 'I'll kill you if you push it' all in one. He kept his mouth closed and followed behind. At least they were headed in the right direction for a change.

They walked for a bit, Connor and Scanlon rounding out the group, and finally he had to say something. "Listen, man, I am sorry about Rachel. She's a, uh, sweet girl."

Yeah, if sweet meant...crazy. Just pretend you're talking about her daughter, and we'll get through this.

Miles didn't seem inclined to chat about it though. "So, how you gonna do it?"

"Do what?"

"You got this big plan to recapture the Monroe Republic. I want to know how."

"Well, we've still got troops all over the northeast." At least, he thought they did. Course, last time he'd seen any of them, they'd been shooting at him thanks to Tom Neville. Yeah, that son of a bitch was going to have to pay. For a lot of things. "We show up. It's going to be like the second coming. Take care of the Patriots, then Georgia is wide open."

Miles stopped and stared at him. "So, this isn't just about the Monroe Republic. This is about the eastern seaboard."

"It's all ours for the taking, Miles. It's better us than the Patriots. At least we can restore some sanity." Okay, possibly not the best choice of words for him, considering.

"Sanity...right." Miles shook his head. "Quit saying we, like I'm a part of this."

"Okay." Possibly he shouldn't mention he wanted his niece to be a part, too.

"Come on, Bass. How is this not going to turn into the same nightmare it was before?"

Charlie. "It's going to be different this time, Miles. I learn from my mistakes. I can't do it alone, I know. The kid's gonna help. Maybe I'm not...I'm not pushing you, but maybe, one day, you'll want to help me, too. I really hope you do."

Wow, it was just a night for extreme emotions, wasn't it?

Miles walked away. And Bass couldn't have sworn there was a little grin on his face.

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Charlie hated this. She hated that they were all so separated, that her mom and Miles were fighting, that Monroe was in the middle of it...that he wasn't there to talk to right at the moment. She wasn't sure if this stupid plan was going to work, but they really didn't have a lot to go on. And they really were leaving quite a bit open to chance. That, and luck. She just hoped it all worked out in their favor.

The mustard gas had been a surprise. And a tragic one at that. In all the plans, all the scenarios any of them could have come up with, the deaths of almost all of their soldiers hadn't been one of them. And now things were getting really dangerous. The waiting was almost over, and the battle was about to begin.

She hated to think about it. What if she lost it all just after getting back her desire to live? What if something happened to him now that she figured out he was detrimental to her happiness? God, she hated the 'what if' game, but the fight was coming and it was coming fast. And a lot was going to change when it was over. Either that or they'd be dead.

Her grandfather's voice pulled her back to the task at hand. Play the good little soldier again, Charlie. Let's get the damn job done. She heard Marion's refusal and stepped out of the shadows, cocking her gun. "I'm sorry, but you don't have a choice."

She hated to terrify the woman, but the fear was on her face regardless. They needed this woman, who her grandpa obviously cared for; she was just another part of the intricate puzzle being assembled. But she felt for Gene. She knew how much he didn't want to play around with Marion's life.

It just couldn't be helped. Before this was all over, everyone one of them would end up risking the people they loved the most.

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Connor was already sick of the little twerp he'd been left with. Scanlon hadn't stopped complaining since they'd built the fire, allowing Monroe and Miles to slip off into the night. If the punk didn't shut up soon, he was going to rip out his tongue.

Overall, he wasn't really in a bad mood. So Miles had been found, but, as it just so happened the man seemed to be coming around tonight. Finally. If Miles was siding with his father, maybe the old man could get his head back in the game. And Monroe was in fine form tonight; he'd witnessed the General's return in that gas station. He'd spoken and Miles had listened, which was the way it should be. It was the Monroe Republic, not the Matheson, and it was his father's name behind President, the presidency that was some day going to be his. The mustard gas may have cost them a lot of men, but if it pushed his dad back on the right track, he could live with that.

Gathering up branches, he added them to the fire, keeping up the pretenses Monroe and Miles needed. Scanlon was just whining like a woman. Jesus, Charlie never even sounded like that.

"So, what is this? We're just bait now," the blond man asked.

"My dad knows what he's doing." Shut the hell up, prick.

"Really? Twenty of my brothers choked their lungs out...today." Connor picked up a thick, long branch, stoking the fire with it as he listened to Scanlon babble. "Your old man is leading us into nothing but our graves."

What an ass. Maybe it was time someone reminded him of his place in this whole deal. "Funny, cause I seem to remember you running away, while all those brothers of yours died. Don't go blaming him."

"You're Monroe's little bitch, and you're gonna talk to me like that-" Connor had had enough. He reached out and hit Scanlon in the neck, in the exact spot that would cause the most pain. He'd learned a fair amount under Senior Nunez's tutelage.

The blond man staggered back, gasping for air and clawing at his throat, as he fell to his knees. Connor grabbed the end of one of the logs, placing the burning embers right by the little weasel's face as he hauled him up by the hair. "You don't know me. Where I come from. Or what I've done. You don't know anything. So show some respect."

When Scanlon nodded, he dropped his hold and let him fall. Now the guy would either fall in line and be a good soldier, and an extremely loyal one, or he'd turn tail and run. Connor had seen it a thousand times in Mexico. Whichever way, the bastard was no longer a threat.

His father was going to help him gain great power, more than he could ever have hoped for under Nunez's employ. He was a Monroe, damn it, and he was going to get everything that he deserved.

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It was child's play. He and Miles had pulled off far harder maneuvers in far worse situations, but stepping in and snatching the gas from the Patriots had been downright fun. Now they just had to get it back to the gang. The easy part of the plan was over.

Entering the gas station, he glanced at Rachel as she eyed Miles behind him. Oh, boy. All hell was about to break loose. He looked at his best friend, his brother. Well, they'd come this far.

"Come on, guys. Whiskey outside." Miles held open the door for them.

Connor and Scanlon exited, with Bass bringing up the rear. When the chain link door slammed shut behind him, he cringed. "Miles, what's this? Miles? What are you doing?"

"It's a little home-ec tip. You mix lye and water and it neutralizes mustard gas," Rachel said, preparing to dump the canisters they'd just brought into the mixture.

He turned to Miles. "We're gonna use the gas, right?"

"Yeah...just not the way you thought. Gene." The old man entered with Marion behind him.

Jesus, this entire plan sucked. He yanked on the fence door. "So what, Miles, this, uh, this little break up with Rachel that was...God, that was an act."

Miles shook his head. Was it possible to feel even more like a fool? Cause his best friend was doing a good job of making him feel that way. And Charlie. God, didn't it hurt his heart to see Charlie on the other side of the door from him.

"Marion, this is military grade mustard gas. The Patriots are using this stuff on us. God knows who else," Miles said.

She stared at the canisters for a minute. "Yellow cross. I saw an order that said they were shipping in 100 tons of something called yellow cross."

"What would they need that much for?" Rachel asked.

"To kill us, you dumb bitch." Rachel, the constant pain in his ass. And he still couldn't find it in his heart to insult her daughter, no matter how this whole thing was playing out. He pounded on the fence again. "God, now we-we got nothing to fight 'em with, Miles. For what?"

His brother waited until he finished ranting. "Look, I don't know how much more proof you need. They're not the squeaky clean U.S. that you think they are. If they were, they wouldn't be using weapons like this."

"What do you want me to do?" Marion asked.

"No one has better eyes on Truman than you," Miles said. "We need you. To tell us what he's up to."

She nodded. Jesus, what a mess. He backed away from the door, waiting for it to open and for everyone to file out. Charlie exited first, her eyes locking with his. Christ, the woman he loved. It felt like that moment he'd found her with Connor in New Vegas all over again. Then Miles stepped out, and the rage of years of betrayal bubbled to the surface.

Connor and Scanlon stood watching. He had to assert his authority here. Show no weakness. "You lied to me. Conned me. Like I'm...I'm some chump. Cause you wanna get Truman's little bitch on your team."

He shoved Miles, who blew it off like it was nothing. Like he was nothing. "Well, we got a spy in Truman's house now. And if she convinces other people in town, we got an underground."

"Who cares? We could have used the gas; we could have taken out a truckload of Patriots."

"And anybody else who gets caught in the middle."

He shoved his best friend away again. "You said you wanted to win!"

Miles leaned in close. "I do. And...I will. But we're not gonna use gas. We're not gonna kill innocent people. We're the good guys. Time we started acting like it."

Is this what the hell had been going through his brother's mind leading up to the day he tried to kill him? Was he just hearing the truth for the first time? Or had something happened in the last year or two to change his best friend's mind? The only thing Monroe could think had changed in Miles's life was...Charlie.

He circled Miles, watching his son grow restless at this exchange of words. "Who are you? Rachel is so far up your ass."

"Oh, no. No, no. This doesn't have anything to do with Rachel." Miles looked him dead in the eye. "This is about you and me. I tried it your way. All the way to Philly. Look how well that worked out."

Asshole. That hadn't all been his plan. They'd been in it together for a long time. Actually, at the beginning, it hadn't been his idea at all. "I told you. It's different now."

"No, it's not. You're going to keep making the same brutal mistakes and keep pushing away, or killing, people who care about you. And you're gonna-you're gonna end up alone. You know why? Because you haven't changed."

No, that wasn't true. He had changed, had been changing. At first to earn back his brother's trust, but then eventually, it had been for Charlie. It had all been for Charlie. He'd been changing; he hadn't wanted the Republic back, not until...until Connor. He looked at his son. He had made the offer of the Monroe Republic for Connor.

He wasn't going to wind up alone. She loved him; he knew she did. And, God help him, he loved her. But all of this, this night, cut him right down to the core. Son of a bitch, this hurt more than he thought.

"You're wrong." He pushed Miles. Lucky I don't slug you, brother. "You're wrong."

"Stay, go. I don't care. This time, we're going to do it my way." And Miles walked away.

Once more, Miles just walked away from him. The knife was in his gut, twisted by his best friend, who left him bleeding on the floor yet again. He caught his brother's eye, right before he disappeared with Rachel back into the station.

Son of a bitch!

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So, he was gone. Monroe had left with Connor, just as she knew he would after the fight with Miles. And he hadn't even said goodbye to her. She shouldn't have been surprised, but it still hurt. And she didn't know it would hurt so badly. But she'd agreed to the stupid plan in the first place, and true, they did have Marion on their side now...but it still tugged at her heart.

That night at the lake, something had happened between them, something had bloomed. But now he was gone. He was off with Connor, doing what he needed to do. She knew his road was going to be even harder to travel than any of theirs, and she wanted to wish him well. She hoped at the end of it all, he'd find some sense of peace, if nothing else.

But she selfishly wanted him here, with her. In this big battle that was sure to come, she had wanted to stand at his side. It didn't look like that was in the cards now.

And the way he looked at her when she walked into the gas station behind Gene and Marion. She'd had to turn her head away, unable to bear the intensity of his electric blue eyes. The pain in his gaze was just too much for her to take. How must it have felt to him to see them on opposite sides? His best friend and...her.

It felt like she'd betrayed the man she loved.

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"What are we doing here?" Connor asked, as they approached the empty power plant the Patriots had gassed two days ago. It was as good a place to hide as any. And the bastards probably wouldn't come back, considering they believed they'd chased everyone out.

He didn't answer, simply led his son down a grassy ridge to a secret hidden weapons cache. He uncovered it and started pulling out guns. "We don't need Miles. We're going to get what's rightfully yours without him."

Before he could finish speaking, an arm reached out, pulling Connor back, a knife to his throat. He grabbed a shotgun, cocking it and pointing it at his son's assailant. Neville. Oh, we have a lot to talk about, Tom. He wanted to start with Charlie, but since there was a blade pressed against his kid's neck, they'd go there. "Tom. Take it easy."

"Sorry. Seeing your son in danger...you know, you really have to appreciate the irony of it. This whole time, you were my ticket to everything." Neville had lost it. There was no way he would give him a thing. Not one damn thing. If for no other reason than the woman he loved; he wouldn't let this man in the same room with Charlie ever again. "And now that I finally got you, my ticket's expired."

The knife dug further into his son's skin, just shy of breaking through. Monroe lowered his gun. "You want to kill me, Tom. You kill me. But you're going to let my son go."

Neville grinned. That creepy ass smile still freaked him out, had even when he'd been running the Republic. Jesus, the crazy bastard was even more unhinged than ever before. "I don't want to kill you. You and me...we got work to do."

And the unexpected just kept coming...

"What kind of work?"

Neville pushed his son away, and he grabbed for him, pulling him away from the psycho. And people thought he was batshit. "Julia's dead."

"I'm sorry." He wasn't really. That woman had been a piece of work. He'd never told Neville that she'd come on to him more than once when her husband had been out on assignment. Not that he'd ever touched her. Julia had her sights set on power and authority, and in Philly, no one had ranked higher than him. But he'd wanted nothing to do with her.

What a piece of work this family was. Turns out, the only good one out of any of them had been Jason. Now, he really wished he'd never had the kid tortured. Having to grow up with these two for parents, it was a wonder the boy had any decency to him at all. But Charlie had seen it. Of course, she had. She had a way of seeing the good in everyone.

"The Patriots killed her because I couldn't catch you."

"They were never going to let her go, Tom. You know that, right?"

"That's what Jason said." Neville looked broken. If he threatened Charlie, all bets were off. If not...

"So, now what?"

"I am going to take the Patriots down, one corpse at a time. I am going to cut a path to Washington and put a bullet in the President's face. Make Sherman's march feel like a 10K fun run. Is that the sort of work that, uh, you'd be interested in?"

The man was insane. "That is music to my ears."

"What about Miles?" Neville asked.

"Miles?" Right now, his best friend was out of the picture.

"You think Miles would have a problem with that?"

"He's not willing to do what it takes. Not like us." This was working out better than he could have ever planned.

Everything was falling into place.

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**Yeah, so this time I went from Miles's POV as well. That's new for me. He's a tough head to get into, which is weird cause I am a very sarcastic person. Miles should be easy for me ;)**


	6. Chapter 6

**Sorry, everyone for this taking so long. There was a lot that needed to be worked out for this part, and I didn't want to publish this until I was certain I had everything set up for the next chapter.**

**It's been brought to my attention that some of the characters may be acting a little ooc. And I understand, but I just need everyone to trust me when I say...I have a plan. So please be patient. Everything will make sense in the end.**

**Dialogue has been taken from Memorial Day. I own nothing of Revolution (still don't...although I keep trying to own it), and I'm still waiting for David Lyons to show up at my house. And waiting...**

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The man looked frightened when she cocked the gun at him. Between her, Miles, and Scanlon, the poor guy was surrounded. She'd been doing that a lot lately. Scaring people. Well, some things just couldn't be helped.

"You, Joe?" Miles asked.

"Yes. And I know who you are." Their captive swallowed thickly, then turned to Charlie. "You sure no one saw you?"

"We know what we're doing. Trust us," she said, lowering her weapon. Though lately, she'd felt anything but confident. Bass was out there, somewhere in the wind, and she wasn't sure she would ever see him again. If it ended this way, she wasn't sure she'd ever forgive herself. Angry and gutted, he'd left them without a backward glance. God, everything had gotten so out of hand.

"You know, maybe Marion says you're okay, but I don't know you."

Says the guy with the red, white, and blue on his sleeve. "Same here, buddy. Nice armband. How do we know you're not going to turn us in."

"Well, maybe I should."

"Alright," Miles interrupted. True, maybe she had handled that badly, but her emotions were off in a million different directions, and the man she loved was gone. Excuse me, Miles, for struggling to keep it all together. "Marion says you're okay. Marion says we're okay. We're all okay. Have you seen the mustard gas or not?"

Joe nodded. "Yeah."

"How many barrels we talking about?"

"One."

Her uncle's brow scrunched up. "One. What do you mean...one?"

Five minutes later, they were crouched on top of a wooded ridge overlooking the train yard. Joe had tried to get them to the best possible vantage point for what he needed them to see. "Look closely at the end of the car, toward the base."

Miles lowered his binoculars. "Yep, I see it. Yellow cross. Their little code word for mustard gas. A whole damn tankard car full of it."

What the hell else was new. "That's a problem."

Her uncle cocked an eyebrow and glared at her. "You think?"

"You know who would have been helpful in all this?" Scanlon asked. If the next words out of his mouth were- "Monroe."

Yep, she was killing him. Like she needed this little ass to remind her of anything related to Bass. She was having a hard enough time concentrating through all her worry for him. She should be letting it go, doing what needed to be done, and not concerning herself with Sebastian Monroe. After all, she'd known the deal when she agreed to the plan, knowing exactly how things were going to go down between the lot of them. But she hadn't known how far it would escalate, and she hadn't prepared herself for the pain she'd read on his face.

"Yeah, well, he's probably half way north by now, which means, sadly, we're left with you." Yeah, Miles missed Bass as much as she did. He'd just never admit to it.

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Gene popped the door open as they approached, gun in hand. Miles was at least happy that they'd listened to him enough to have weapons at the ready. It had been a long time since he'd been a military commander of any sorts; well, unless leading the rebellion counted. Considering the new army he had, he could only wish for the ineptitude of the rebels. His new band of fighters was...oh, hell, who was he kidding? He had exactly two trained soldiers in the group and Charlie was the other one. There was no way he and the kid could handle it all on their own. He needed...Bass.

Monroe was gone, and while he knew harsh things had been said, he also knew they needed to be said. Didn't make him feel any better. Bass had looked at him the same way he did that night in Philly; the night he'd held a gun to his brother's head. Jesus, the betrayal between them was staggering. Now they had this battle to fight, and currently, they stood on opposite sides. But he couldn't back out of it now. They'd come this far; they had to let things play out, and let the pieces fall as they would.

And what the hell was up with all the philosophical bullshit? God, he needed a drink before his head exploded.

Rachel stepped up to him, worry marring her pretty face. "I take it you didn't find him."

"It's been 24 hours. There's no sign of Aaron or Priscilla anywhere," she said. "We have to go. We have to look for them. All of us."

He sighed. "I get it. It's a problem. But it's not our only problem."

Suddenly, the door creaked open and Marion entered. "We got a problem."

Perfect.

They stepped outside and Marion filled them in on the situation. He gazed over at Charlie; he loved her with all of his heart, and if he'd ever had a kid, he'd want it to be this one. He'd questioned it, of course. The girl was entirely too much like him, and so little like Ben, and exactly the right age, that he'd wondered if maybe...so, he'd finally gotten up the nerve and asked. The night they'd made love at the drive-in, he'd outright asked Rachel if Charlie was his daughter. The way she'd gazed at him nearly broke his heart. She'd told him as much as she wished Charlie was his, she was certain that she was Ben's. The timing just wasn't right for it to be possible.

He hadn't expected to feel so sad. Didn't change his feelings for the kid; still loved her and would give up his life for her. But some part of him, a part he didn't even know existed, wished for a different answer. They were so similar, and she wasn't like Ben or Rachel. And then he remembered. As boys, his older brother had always been told he took after his grandmother, while Miles favored his grandfather. So Charlie had gotten her mannerisms, her attitude, from her great-grandfather. They were family, just not father and daughter. But, hell, after all they'd been through together, maybe, in a way, they were just that.

So he loved her; he thought of her as his own, but there were moments, small as they might be, that he wished she'd never walked into his bar in Chicago.

This was one of them.

He huffed. "You sure it was General Carver in that picture."

"He's the president of Texas. I know what he looks like," Marion said. "It was his picture. And that yellow cross symbol. Plans, schedules, and a circled date. Tomorrow's date."

And the crap just kept coming. "Well, that all adds up to...awful."

"So what do you think?" Gene asked.

"I think they're sending the gas to Austin." So another change of plans. He exchanged a look with both Charlie and her mother. "Patriots tried to kill Carver once before. Now, they're just doubling down, gas the capitol, kill a couple thousand people, pin it on California. Stage their own Pearl Harbor."

"No, there's no stopping it," the old man said. Things were starting to take a toll on Gene. The past few days, he'd looked really ragged. "Texas and California go to war. Wipe each other out. The Patriots take over the rest."

Yeah, Monroe had pegged that part right.

"Can we neutralize the gas?" Rachel asked.

"We'll never sneak that much lye into the yard." Oh, he had an idea. A very, very bad idea. "But, maybe...Rachel, you're going to have to find Aaron and Priscilla alone. Sorry."

She raised an eyebrow at him. Damn, he did love her. "What about you?"

"Us?" He glanced around at his little ragtag band of misfit toy soldiers. "We're going to steal a train."

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So, Scanlon had come through after all. Well, he'd needed a spy in Miles's camp, and the war clan member had fit the bill perfectly. Especially since the guy seemed so loyal to his kid all of a sudden. Interesting. He'd have to find out what happened there at some point. For now, at least he would know what his brother knew.

"They know you're gone?" he asked.

"Course they do," the blond man said. "I'm out getting a wagon for the big heist."

What the hell...oh, now what? "Heist?"

"They're stealing the train. With a tankard car full of yellow cross."

An entire tankard. Jesus, these Patriot bastards were bad news. Even Miles hadn't counted on this. "Tom, how would you feel about driving a car filled with mustard gas straight into the heart of D.C. and shove it down the throats of these sons of bitches?"

"You had me at mustard gas." Well, always could count on Tom Neville to do whatever needed to be done, no matter how vile the assignment. He'd always thought Strausser was his most evil man, but it was possible Tom was worse. Because Tom was so much smarter.

And how in the hell had he wound up in the lead again? Neville had recruited him for this, then immediately stepped aside just like old times, leaving him the one in charge. He glanced at his son. Maybe it was for the best. The kid wanted the Republic back, and if Bass appeared weak, it could ruin everything.

Too much was riding on him pulling this all off. Juggling his son, Neville, the Patriots, yeah, he was overwhelmed. And he hoped the payoff would be worth it all.

But, damn, if his heart didn't hurt from missing Charlie so much.

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She stepped into the abandoned gas station, tilting her head at her uncle as she hopped up onto the counter. He looked beat, just seriously like he needed to sleep for days. So now they had a resistance...yeah, not really.

"You know that's the father of the kid you shot in Austin." It wasn't really a question.

"Yeah, I know." He looked at her.

"You gonna tell him?"

"Not until we get through this mess, but, yeah, I'm gonna tell him." She nodded. The Miles from a year ago would never have accepted that responsibility. So people really could change.

Great, cause she needed her thoughts to drift right back to Bass. She sighed, looking out at the "soldiers" Marion had just brought them. She could just imagine all the sarcastic things Bass would say if he was here. Without him, it was up to her to play devil's advocate. "Miles, this is never going to work. Not with these people."

"Charlie, I can't change the things I've done or who I was when I did them." He crossed his arms over his chest."All I can change is what I do from here on out."

"So you're going to trust them?" Things were slipping further and further away from her. This fight against the Patriots was becoming harder all the time, and here they were flying by the seat of their pants. Bass, Miles, Rachel, would she lose everyone before this war was over?

"I got every instinct in me shouting no, but I'm trying to picture what a...a good guy would do." She chuckled. "And a good guy would trust them."

"Well..." Once again, Bass loomed in her mind. He did a lot of things that she knew were wrong, but at the same time, she knew he did them because they were necessary and no one else really wanted to do the dirty work. And she knew it bothered him...eh, it bothered him some of the time, but he still did what needed to be done. Sometimes she thought it would be nice to not be tethered to such a strong moral center. "Being a good guy sucks."

"Yeah, it really does."

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Ok, so there were some parts of the danger and adventure that he still missed. And, he had to admit, it was still so damn much fun. The thrill of a mission pumping through his veins had carried him far, both before and after the Blackout. Except now he had Charlie at his side instead of Bass. Didn't really matter; Miles trusted her as much as he'd always trusted him. Well, back in the day he'd trusted him, anyway. And now...

Charlie better be handling the guy on lookout.

As the Patriot stepped into the engine room, Miles cocked the gun, catching the khaki son of a bitch by surprise. Jesus, Gene was his backup. "Do what we say. You might make it home for dinner. Now we're going to need you to get this train moving."

"The boiler, it's not hot enough yet."

Oh, come on. "Well, get it hot enough. Now!"

The engineer jumped to attention, turning the heat up as quickly as he could. Charlie climbed up a minute later, and they exchanged a look. "Took care of it?"

She nodded. "Took care of it."

That was his girl. Last year, she'd barely been able to shoot down a militia soldier keeping over twenty men and women captive. Now she hadn't even hesitated when he'd outlined her part of the plan. She'd grown, and while part of him hated that killing came much easier to her now, he appreciated how far she'd really come. He was damn proud of her.

Until the camp siren pierced the air. He looked at her, dumbfounded. "Took care of it?"

"I took care of it!" she shouted.

The Patriots were upon them in seconds. He shot at the approaching men, rifle mowing down one or two. But there were so many more. He watched Charlie fire, her aim had gotten really good, followed by Gene, who hated to kill as much as his daughter did. But he must have decided killing Patriots was a good thing for he didn't hesitate to take the shot.

He reloaded, taking out two more soldiers. "Let's go. Roll this stupid thing!"

"Miles, problem!" Gene shouted. He turned to see the Patriot meant to drive the train dead on the ground, a bullet in his brain. "Ricochet got him."

Wonderful. With seconds to make a decision, he looked up at his newest fighter. "Joe, you're a train guy. Can you drive it?"

"I saw him do it once!" The man looked absolutely mortified.

"Well, once is all we need. Here's your chance, Joe. Let's go." In a different situation, the hemming and hawing would have been funny. Now, they had to get the show on the road.

Joe fiddled with a piece of paper. Did this son of a bitch actually have a note on how to drive the train? Finally, the guy just gave up and twisted knobs, pulling a lever or two.

More than anything, Miles needed to get them out of there before too many reinforcements showed up, effectively pinning them there permanently. "Today, Joe!"

"I know!"

Charlie fired from up on the roof while he shot from the side. If anything happened to her...Rachel wouldn't have to kill him. He'd do it himself. "Come on!"

And then finally, the train began to move.

Patriots shouted and yelled, jumping up onto the cars, desperate to stop the train before they got out of the yard. Man, he could really use Bass right about now. "Faster would be good, Joe!"

"I'm trying!"

The train picked up speed, sending them to the end of the yard and blasting right through the gates and out onto the open track. Uncomfortable with leaving Charlie on her own anymore, he hoisted himself up onto the roof beside her. In perfect unison, they aimed at the remaining enemy soldiers, each nailing one. Damn, it **was** like being with Bass. His niece really had gotten deadly accurate with a gun.

Two more khaki uniforms remained, but they were no match for the Matheson clan. That thought actually made him giddy. Charlie hit the one hanging off the side of the caboose, dropping him in an instant. And when the final idiot crawled directly into his sights on the last car's roof...who the hell does that anyway, in plain sight...he shot him in the head.

All right, done deal. He glanced over at his niece. Man, this girl was his pride and joy. "Gotta admit, that was kind of fun."

She laughed heartily, the sound music to his ears. Charlie didn't get to laugh enough. "Pull that whistle, Joe! We just stole a train."

When it blew, Charlie let out a whooping yell. He couldn't be sure, but he thought she was having the time of her life. And, maybe she was. Fighting and adventure and danger, she lived for it. How bored she must have been in Wisconsin. How much her life had changed after finding him. God, she reminded him of Bass.

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"Train will be here any minute. I'm supposed to take all this lye and neutralize the gas," Scanlon said.

Connor glanced at his father. He had to admit, when the old man didn't want anyone to know what he was thinking, he could clamp down like an oyster around a pearl. Monroe was a tough son of a bitch to read. Yet Miles never seemed to have any problem with it.

Jealousy tugged at his heart. It pissed him off that Miles Matheson held such a special place in his father's life. **He** should be the one his father turned to for comments, suggestions, ideas. It was his birthright, his father, his Republic. He'd thought the pain in the ass was coming around after he broke up with Rachel, but it had all turned out to be an act. One both he and his father had fallen for. At least Monroe had the sense to fight back and to finally leave Miles for good.

"Do a lap. Make sure we're alone," Monroe commanded. Neville nodded him off towards the woods. At least this guy could do what needed to be done. And there didn't appear to be too much love lost between his father and Tom Neville. That was just the way he liked it. No one else to steal his father's attention away from him or the goal they had.

Still desperate to know why Monroe was shoved up Miles's ass, he asked Neville for his take on it. The guy had been in their militia; he had to know something. "So, what is it with him and Miles? I mean, my dad looks like he's ready to murder someone, more than usual, ever since-"

"Miles kicked him to the curb?" Tom asked.

"Yeah, so what's the story there?"

Neville chuckled. "Don't ask, don't tell."

Yeah, he'd made that joke before, but he didn't really believe it. Not with the way his father still looked at Charlie. Like she hung the damn moon or something. Course, that little non-existent romance was probably off the table now that her beloved uncle had severed ties with Monroe. "Come on. I'm serious."

"Kid, seriously. I been asking myself that question for years. Whatever twisted love/hate, Cain/Abel brotherhood they got going on just clouds their judgment. Makes 'em both look weak."

Yeah, but Monroe had left. They were still going to get the Republic back. Or was he deluding himself into believing something that was never going to happen. If Miles would welcome his father back with open arms, would the great General Sebastian Monroe fall right back in with his best friend? Maybe it was time to cut that tie once and for all. "That's a problem, isn't it? That'll never get the Republic back as long as Miles is out there."

Tom hesitated. "What do you mean by that?"

"Just making conversation." Too soon to let him in on all their plans. But he could use a man like Tom Neville once he got the Republic up and running. Yes, a man like Neville might come in very handy indeed.

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He'd been antsy for the last 20 minutes. He hadn't seen Miles in days. Or Charlie. How the hell was he going to handle seeing them both...and doing nothing but stealing their train? That whole damn fight had left him raw. What a struggle it would be to not pull Charlie into his arms and just forget the whole damn thing. But he couldn't; he had a job to do. And right now, that job took precedence over everything else.

The screeching of wheels shut off all other thoughts as he watched his best friend and Charlie jump down off the train.

"Come on," Miles said, crossing to where Scanlon stood alone. "We don't have a lot of time. Unload the lye. Get on the wagon. Let's go."

When the blond man made no move, Miles cocked his head. And Bass stepped out of his hiding place, pointing a gun at the back of his brother's head. "Hey, Miles."

Charlie whipped out a gun, lowering it when Connor pointed his own at her. Okay, that he still didn't like. Having that weapon aimed at her was too close to Strausser and Philadelphia, not that his kid was in the realm of that psycho. But the bored look on her face was entirely too reminiscent of that night. He couldn't look at her directly, not without screwing up the plan; she was too enticing, and she could ruin everything.

Neville herded Gene and Joe into the little group. "That's right, drop it. Back it up."

"Drop 'em," Bass said, waiting for them to comply. They all obeyed. Good, now that he had everyone's attention.

"I knew I should have just killed you." Miles pointed at Scanlon. Turning toward Bass, he saw the rest of their party. "Neville? Really?"

His brother looked astonished. Dumb ass. "Sorry, Miles, but we're stealing your train."

"What exactly do you plan to do with all that mustard gas?"

He sauntered over to his best friend, gun pointed at him the whole time. After all the times the bastard had aimed at him, it felt nice to be the one holding the weapon for a change.

"I'm going to drive it right into the heart of D.C., and I'm going to burn the place to the ground. Which is what you should be doing. It's what we should be doing. You and me. I swear to God, Miles. I don't know what happened to you. I genuinely don't understand." He stared his brother down, backing away only after he felt his point had been made. "Let's go, boys."

Turning away, he headed for the train. Next part of the plan, coming up. Then he heard Miles.

"Hey, whoa, whoa, whoa, wait. What are you doing?"

"She murdered my boy."

He spun back around, horrified at the scene before him. Neville had his gun trained on Charlie. He'd let Connor point a gun at her, knowing his kid liked her enough to not actually hurt her. But this wack job. No...oh, hell, no. This wasn't part of the plan, part of any plan. Charlotte Matheson winding up with a gun in her face negated everything else for him. Screw them all.

Except Neville was as masochistic a bastard as Strausser had been. He had to move carefully. "Tom..."

"You think I won't shoot through you, Miles?"

The son of a bitch was threatening the woman he loved and now his brother. Someday, he was going to slit Tom Neville's throat. He'd had enough. "Get on the train...now!"

"Tom," Miles said, also trying to diffuse the situation. "She didn't kill Jason. Patriots did it."

"I said get on the train," Bass tried again. Things were escalating, and when they did, very bad things happened. He had a sudden and very vivid flashback to standing in the town square with Emma, his gun pointed at her temple. He would not allow that to happen here. He stepped closer to Neville. He waited, hesitated...

Aw, fuck it.

His gun was pointed at Neville's head in the blink of an eye. "Or I'm going to drop you right now."

"Well," Tom drawled. "Why am I not surprised?"

"We got bigger fish to fry," he said.

"I swear to God, you two. Anything for your precious Miles." Except the stupid ass had it all wrong. Oh, he didn't want his brother to be shot, not for anything. But this wasn't about Miles. This was all about Charlie. No way in hell was the woman he desperately loved being shot by some little pissant who had been in his militia. There was a time he could have crushed him like a bug under his shoe just for breathing the wrong way. Things had changed, but not enough that he couldn't take Neville out in one shot.

When he saw Tom's finger squeezing down on the trigger, Bass grabbed his arm and aimed away from his family. The bullet poked through the tankard instead of hitting anyone he loved. Without a word, he kept his grip on Neville, waiting for Miles to knock him out from behind. Within seconds, the man was out cold on the ground. He met his brother's gaze. Words still weren't necessary.

Miles turned towards the truck, stepping away from his niece, and leaving him in full view of Charlie. His eyes locked on hers, drinking her in, the first time they'd made eye contact since the fight. A thousand words were exchanged in that thirty second gaze. A thousand things he couldn't say out loud. Her baby blues were filled with relief and gratitude, and a touch of sadness. Jesus, she didn't really think he'd let anything happen to her, did she?

Miles pounded on the side of the tankard, and his thoughts pulled away from Charlie. Well, that didn't sound right.

"It's empty," Miles said.

"So where's the gas?" he asked, a sinking feeling already settling in his stomach. He'd been a soldier too long to not see exactly the way this was shaping up.

Ten minutes later, his fears were confirmed after Joe, did Miles really recruit this guy, spilled his tale about the gathering in Willoughby.

"What do you mean everybody's going to be there?" his brother asked.

"The concert. Everyone's going to be at the concert at the court house," Joe explained.

"So, they're going to have everybody together in one place."

"And a load of missing gas that didn't just walk away." Christ, this was just turning into the biggest shit storm ever.

"They're going to have their Pearl Harbor, just not in Austin." Miles shook his head. "It's going to be here. Come on."

The rest of the crew took off running after Miles. Everything was falling apart, all the plans just ripping to shreds. Was any of it salvageable now? How could he save all the hard work? Wait... "What are you doing? You're too late. Stop! What are you going to do? You're going to run straight into a thousand tons of mustard gas."

Miles cocked his head, as if trying to read him. His brother scoffed, then lit into him. "If we don't, it's over. Patriots win it all. You in?"

Was he in? He had to be; this was his family after all. Plans could always be altered and reworked. He hoped his son would understand and join them. "Damn it. Connor, let's go."

There was no movement from behind him, and his heart sank. "I said get on the wagon."

"Sorry. Think I'll pass on gas town. I didn't sign up for suicide." His son stood stock still, glaring at him. "But you and Miles, you two go have fun together."

And the pieces of the puzzle just fell into place. Connor didn't wanted him, didn't want a family. Connor wanted power; the power he'd so readily promised down in Mexico. Was that the only reason he'd come? And Charlie; the kid had slept with Charlie, even after he'd specifically told him she was off limits. Had his son been playing him all along?

Charlie's voice. Her heard Charlie's voice in his head, even above the blood pounding in his ears_. I think Connor... _

Anger rose in him, the kind he struggled so hard to lock away. The kind that released the General. He held back as much as he could. He'd use it on the Patriots instead. But he gave his son one last look of distain. "I'll deal with you later."

He crawled onto the front of the wagon beside Miles, his body angled to the two men still standing by the empty train. Scanlon and Connor. His eyes remained on his son. He didn't look away, not once, until his son was swallowed by the darkness. Even then, his gaze lingered on the black night behind them.

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**Hope to have the next chapter up in a few days or so.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Sorry this took so long, but I got halfway through this chapter and realized chapter 8 had to go up at the same time as this one. And chapter 8 was a beast. I want to thank everyone for all the reviews and follows and favs. I really appreciate it, and I appreciate you sticking with me. **

**Dialogue is taken from Memorial Day...well some of it at least. We're off the rails now, boys! Here's where we split from canon. **

**I own nothing as usual. I WANT to own Revolution and David Lyons, but last time I checked I still didn't.**

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They made it there just in time. The Patriots had barricaded the townspeople in the court house and left them to die. A sacrifice needed to pit Texas against California.

It made Charlie sick.

She'd thought Monroe and his militia was the worst thing she'd ever encountered. But the Patriots were worse. At least Miles and Monroe had started out with good intentions; then it had all gone to hell. These sons of bitches seemed to have nothing but power on their minds from the get-go.

She looked at him crouched next to her. Other than the side trip to Mexico, she'd seen him every day for the past 9 months, so the last few days had been excruciating. Especially now, after she'd realized how much he meant to her. And after the way he'd left. She desperately wanted to speak to him, but now just wasn't the time.

"All right, guys, find that gas. Now," Miles ordered.

She followed Bass and Gene, leaving her uncle behind with Joe to handle the rest of the town. Bass kicked in a door on the upper floor, shooting one of the Patriot sentries before the man could blink. As her grandfather attempted to shoot the other, the former general pushed the old man's gun away.

"No, no. You'll hit the tanks."

The soldier ducked behind a wall of barrels, firing at them as they also took cover. Bass was a fantastic shot, but she knew there was no way he could risk it with the mustard gas so exposed. As the two men kept the Patriots attention, she snuck carefully around the back of the barrels, raising her crossbow and firing a bolt through the man's neck. She and Monroe exchanged a look as he stepped out from his hiding spot. Though she wasn't sure if he was ready to compliment her or strangle her for breaking cover.

Gene's cry broke their gaze. "Oh, God. No. Marion."

Charlie looked down at her grandfather as he lifted the woman's head into his lap, sympathy etched into her features. So the dying time had already begun.

But Marion wasn't dead. "Gene..."

"Marion," her grandfather gasped. "Don't talk. Let me help you."

"No, there's no time..." Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. With absolutely no medical training, Charlie knew the woman wouldn't last much longer. A glance at Bass, a soldier from both before and after the Blackout, confirmed her suspicions. "Ed..."

"Truman. Truman did this to you." Gene's rage was palpable; she'd never seen her grandfather so angry before. He was usually like her mother, cool and calm at all times.

The woman nodded, coughing up blood as she did. "Troops..."

Bass edged in closer. "Troops?"

"Patriots...have more...coming in..."

"There are reinforcements?" Bass asked, military training taking over. It seemed cold, but Charlie knew he was right. They had to get all the information they could before Marion succumbed.

"South America..." The poor woman was whispering now, the struggle to breathe becoming obvious. "Lot more...hundreds..."

Jesus, the Patriots had more troops ready to go. Where the hell would they get them all? Her eyes met Bass's in silent question. He cocked his head to the side which meant he might have an answer but wasn't ready to share it yet.

Her grandfather began to weep, and Charlie looked down to find him rocking the woman. During her little exchange with Bass, Marion must have passed on. She met Monroe's gaze again, and although she could see the apology reflected in his baby blues, she read the meaning in them as well. They had to get out of there.

She put a hand on Gene's shoulder, and he looked up at her. The pain in his eyes hurt her, but they had no choice, no time yet to mourn the dead. "Grandpa, we gotta go."

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He tossed his pack onto the counter by his best friend, unable to keep his frustration to himself. He'd doubled back to the train to see if he could find Connor, see if he could reason with him, try to make him understand the situation, get back into his sons good graces, but the kid was long gone. As were Scanlon and Tom.

"No luck?" Miles asked.

"What's it look like? Kid's out there in the wind, with Neville. What could possibly go wrong?" He'd never intended to leave Connor with a bastard like Tom Neville. Not for long anyway. It was all supposed to turn out so differently. But there was no denying the way his son had turned away from him. He'd left to do the right thing, and Connor hadn't cared at all. He wanted to believe his son was a better man than him; that given the chance he'd do the right thing. Make the Republic into a better place. But it was almost impossible to deny; his son seemed to have no interest in him unless he found a way to get him power.

The screen door creaked open as Joe and his daughter entered the room. And proceeded to deliver some very bad news.

So the two of them were being blamed for the death of Carver and the other Rangers. It was a brilliant strategy and one he would have gladly used in his own conquests if necessary. But now, the whole thing was just pissing him off. "You gotta be kidding me, right? These idiots are going to go to war anyway. That whole hero act back in town that was...for nothing? I abandoned my kid..."

His gaze caught Charlie's. Caught the sympathy in her eyes, and he turned away. He couldn't deal with it right now. With any of it.

"I don't know," Rachel said. "You saved a couple hundred people."

He glared at her. "Well, here's the thing. Their president's still in Willoughby. So if we can't win this war, we're going to get this son of a bitch, and we're going to take him out right now."

Miles tilted his head at him. "We can still stop this war."

"How?" Bass shook his head. This was absolute bullshit.

"We're not going to kill the President. We're going to kidnap him."

"We're going to what?"

"Kidnap him, Bass." Miles looked around at the entire crew. "Look, if we do this correctly, we can set this up. We can maybe get him to confess to everything."

"Maybe," Bass said, his voice rising as he spoke. "We can **maybe** get him to confess. Do you seriously think that we're going to kidnap the son of a bitch who has orchestrated this whole entire brutal operation, and he's just going to...what...happily reveal his entire plan to us in some secret way? Or maybe we get a few guys from Texas to listen in and, oops, all of a sudden, everything will be revealed and we win."

"Bass-"

"No, no, Miles. That's delusional, and you damn well know it. What are we in, a TV show here? You were a general in a republic. Would you have just given up all the secret plans we had at the first chance to gloat over them?" He was pacing now, angrily. Short passes back and forth in front of the rest of the gang.

"Bass, he's different from us. We were soldiers-"

"And how the hell do we know that he wasn't? I don't know jack shit about this guy, other than he's calling himself the President of the Patriots. Now that tells me he had something to do with the government at some point in the past. So I don't know if he was military or not, but a man like that, a man who can come up with some of the sick ass shit that they've pulled, isn't going to give it all up."

"You don't know that."

"I do know that. These sons of bitches are not playing games. After dealing with Randall Flynn last year, we should all know that. How much did he give up, Rachel?" He turned to the woman who'd once been in Flynn's employ. "What did he do to protect their secrets? He obliterated cities, people, half the country, and put a bullet in his brain."

"Who told you that?" Rachel asked softly.

"I did," Charlie said. Everyone turned to her. "On the way back to Willoughby."

Her eyes focused on him. He held her gaze. There was so much left to be said between them, but there were things he had to do yet. "So we all know how that turned out. And now you want to capture this guy and come up with some crazy plan. We kill the son of a bitch, Miles. There is no other choice."

His brother stared at him, that crooked little look on his face, the one he knew so well. The one that usually told him that Miles was coming around to his way of thinking. "I disagree."

The air in the little station seemed to gather tightly around all the occupants. He scanned over all of them; it was unbelievable, using civilians like Joe and his daughter. What a ragtag little band of rebels they'd managed to enlist. Bass's brow wrinkled as he returned his gaze to Miles. "Then you're stupider than I thought."

He plowed out the door, grabbing nothing but his pack and a gun.

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After Bass slammed out the door, Charlie stepped closer to her uncle, silently exchanging a word with him. It was uncanny; there were two humans on the face of the earth she could have an entire conversation with requiring no verbal communication. Two men who meant the world to her. And she'd just let one stomp away.

Things were coming to a head now, and everything was hedging on this plan being carried out. "Miles..."

"He'll be all right," her uncle said. "Now's the time, Charlie. There's no going back from this."

She nodded. Of course she knew that. And as always, she would do what had to be done. "Is it too late to ask for a vacation when this is all over?"

"Kid, I was thinking the exact same thing." Miles chuckled. Then he turned back to the rest of the group. "All right, people. We got a purpose here. Let's see if we can put something together."

They discussed several scenarios over the next twenty minutes, but nothing seemed to be a workable plan. She shot a small grin at Miles. It had to be hard for a seasoned soldier and general to toss ideas around with the crew they had. It was amazing how well he was holding his tongue.

"Miles, is any of ever going to work?" Gene asked. "I mean, we can't seem to formulate a plan that we can carry to task."

Miles sighed. "It has to work. We owe these bastards, and they owe us."

"But-" her grandfather started.

"We're doing this for Marion, Gene." He turned to Charlie, his eyes sympathetic. "And for Jason. And for everyone else these sons of bitches have taken."

She could only assume that Bass would make one of his patented sarcastic comments here, like 'only people about to die make speeches like that', but of course he wasn't there to share. She smiled as she thought of him.

Her next thought was cut off by the explosion.

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They raced into town; by this point, another three blasts had rocked through Willoughby, and chaos reigned down as they hurried into the main square. Papers and wood chips were scattered over the ground and hanging in the air over where a few empty store fronts had recently stood. Miles surveyed the damage. Dusk was falling, but even against the darkening sky, he could still see remnants of debris burning a few yards outside the main gate and similar columns of smoke rising at another two points right out of town.

Patriot troops had been deployed in various directions, presumably to check out the affected areas, but the men in town were considerably thin, the few remaining lighting the evening torches. They didn't seem at all interested in a wanted fugitive like himself standing in their midst. Well, bombs usually did take precedent.

Miles stopped, lifted his head up, and turned in a perfect circle. The explosions had hit in the east, west, north, and south points of the city, drawing soldiers away in every direction. It was a perfect military procedure.

One they'd used many times in the Monroe Republic.

He looked at his niece. "Charlie, go and find Bass. Right now."

"But-"

"Look wherever you have to, but find him. Now!" She nodded, speeding away from the rest of the gang.

"Miles, what the hell is going on?" Joe asked, his eyes confused. Rachel's weren't; she knew exactly what had happened, just as he did.

This was a plot to kill the President.

Thirty seconds later, he saw him. Bass was backing out of the building that housed Truman's old office, now the office of the President. His gun was trained on the tall, white-haired man he yanked along with him. By now, the rest of the Patriots outside the building had seen his brother and the hostage. Guns whipped out of holsters and aimed at his friend.

"Sebastian Monroe, lay down your weapon and release the President," one of the soldiers shouted, and Miles fought to keep from rolling his eyes. Yeah, that was going to work.

Monroe shoved the man firmly in front of him, holding his gun to the President's head and putting his back away from both the building he'd just exited and the rest of the men. Unless the troops outside the main gate returned in the next five minutes, Bass had a clear shot to get away with Davis and disappear into the darkness. Few men could disappear like his brother. "Stay the hell back, or I'll blow his head off right this second, I swear."

"Monroe, there's nowhere for you to go."

"Like hell there isn't."

Well, it was now or never. He stepped away from the gang, his hand brushing against Rachel's as he moved toward the unfolding scene. He pulled his gun from his belt, stepped out of the shadows, and pointed a weapon at his best friend. Again. "Bass, let him go. What the hell are you doing?"

His brother looked at him, the rage inside apparent on his face. "What the hell am I doing? Miles, what the hell is wrong with you? I'm doing what needs to be done. Like always."

"This wasn't part of the plan."

"The plan?" Bass shook his head. "You don't have a plan. Nothing you plan is ever going to work here because these sons of bitches are just going to keep coming and coming. I'm taking him out, Miles. This is the only way."

"Bass, I can't let you do it. This is entirely too important. Let him go."

"Or what, Miles? You're gonna shoot me?" Bass sneered. "You haven't been able to do it yet, you dick."

"Too much is resting on this. Let him go." Miles cocked the gun, and his best friend's eyes fell on him in disbelief. "I really will kill you this time, Bass. I swear to God."

He could see hurt and anger on his brother's face, but he could also see that Bass realized that this time he finally meant it. He would squeeze the trigger when the time came. "Well, I guess we're at an impasse here."

"Let him go."

"I'm not letting him go."

"Don't be a dumbass. You shoot Davis, and I'm killing you. And it ends. Right here on this street in Willoughby."

Miles swore he could see visions of their childhood running through his best friend's deep blue eyes. But he couldn't, he wouldn't, allow their long past to interfere with the job this time. "I should have known you'd be the death of me eventually, Matheson."

Come on, man. The thoughts were racing through his head, and for one split second, he really thought Bass might drop the gun.

But he didn't. His brother cocked the gun at Davis's head and pulled the man towards him. Everything else happened in rapid succession.

Monroe had exerted too much force on the President, so the older man stumbled a bit when he was yanked from behind and he bumped into Bass, pushing him back a little and opening up a clear shot for Miles. And this time, he didn't hesitate.

Miles Matheson took the shot that sent a bullet straight into his best friend's chest.

Monroe's eyes bulged as he lurched backward a step from the force of the blow. His head dropped down, and he gaped at the blood spreading out across his shirt. He looked back up at Miles in complete shock, lifted his own gun and fired off one at his brother.

Even fatally wounded, Monroe's aim was dead on the mark. A bang echoed through the town, and Miles fell to his knees, a pool of red dampening the front of his clothes. He thought he vaguely heard Rachel screaming in terror in the distance, but his eyes were on Bass, the other man on his knees as well. Across the short distance separating them, all the years fell away, and they stared at each other in horror of how their friendship was ending.

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Bass heard the Patriots shouting to protect the President, to get him to safety. He noted that two men grabbed Davis's arms and pulled him back into the building towards his office. Only about ten other soldiers remained on the street, and seeing that the two most wanted criminals of the United States of America no longer appeared to be a threat, they were currently doing nothing more than holding the crowd back.

He coughed, and a little trickle of blood ran out of his mouth. He heard Rachel shouting and saw her collapse beside Miles. He looked at his brother, eyes meeting one more time, then watched as she lowered his best friend to the ground, cradling his head gently. He suddenly wanted to see Charlie so very badly, but...well, that just couldn't be. He fell backwards, writhing on the ground a bit before stilling.

A face appeared above him, but it wasn't the one he wanted to see. It was her grandfather. "Gene..."

"Stupid son of a bitch..." Gene muttered as Monroe closed his eyes. He just wanted to fall asleep for a very long time...

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He checked Monroe's vitals, noticeably aware of the soldiers remaining on the street. There wasn't much more they could do to Sebastian Monroe at this time, other than maybe desecrate his body. Shaking his head, he stood and faced his daughter and Miles crumbled on the other side of the street. He took a step in their direction, but the look on Rachel's face as she turned toward him told him all he needed to know.

Now the Patriots had their two most wanted dead at their feet. But he was still a doctor, and he couldn't allow anything unseemly to happen to the remains. He, too, was a wanted man, but in light of the circumstances, and the fact that the soldiers in town were low ranking, he hoped maybe he'd be able to spirit his family away at the very least. He nodded to the Patriot who seemed to have the most authority and waved him over.

"Private, I wonder if I might have a word." The soldier neared, and Gene lowered his voice. "These men are dead. Now your President is safe, and you've got two of the largest criminals lying on the street. All hell could break lose if we don't get these bodies out of here."

The young man looked from the prone body of Monroe to his daughter crying softly over the body of her beloved Miles.

"I have a wagon. Allow me to load the bodies and get them out of town. I'll bury them outside the city limits, and save you the hassle of having to deal with any other problems until the rest of the troops return." The Patriot still looked uncertain. "If not, you may have some of the townspeople starting a riot to try to get to these two."

The soldier's eyes widened, and he nodded. "Get them out of here."

Gene thanked him and hurried across the street to the alleyway they'd used to sneak back into town after the explosions. He'd seen a small wagon and horses there, large enough he could get both bodies and Rachel out of town.

Joe ran up to him, his daughter in tow. "Jesus Christ, Gene. They just shot each other."

Gene looked up at the man, his eyes saddened. "I have to load the body of the man my daughter loved into a wagon and bury him later tonight. I have to bury the body of one of the most feared dictators of our time. These two have probably being heading to this for years, but tonight, I'm the one who has to end it all."

"Well, what can we do? I guess the plan to kidnap-"

Gene silenced him with a motion of his hand. "Don't. We can't speak about this again. I think you should stay here and blend in with the crowd, Joe. It's the safest thing for you to do."

"So...it's over. Patriots win."

"For now, we have no other choice but to back off." He put a hand on the other man's shoulder. "Maybe someday...I don't know, Joe. But right now, let me just get this over with."

The other man stepped back. "Right. Don't worry about us. If there is still a fight to be made against these bastards, we'll jump right back into it."

Gene sighed. "We can't give up on Texas coming around eventually. Miles did say if Blanchard was still alive, there might be a chance. We have to hope there is."

Joe nodded, pulling his daughter behind him as Gene drove the horses and buggy out of the alley and over to Monroe. He searched the crowd for a friendly face and couldn't find one. The soldier who had ordered him to remove the bodies stepped closer, kneeling at Monroe's feet as Gene did the same near his head. They lifted the dead man into the wagon, then Gene walked the horses over to Miles.

The young soldier hesitated to approaching his grieving daughter, so Gene crouched beside her, alone. "Rachel..."

She looked up at him, eyes swollen with tears. "Dad...no..."

"Rachel, you have to let him go." She shook her head, reminding him so much of the teenager she'd been so many years ago. "Rachel, please, let go."

This time she did as he asked, standing shakily and grasping her lover's legs, as he lifted Miles's upper body and placed him in the wagon next to his best friend. Rachel seemed to have trouble moving, so he helped her to the front and up onto the bench seat. Good thing Aaron had stayed behind with Priscilla; it would have been nearly impossible to find a place for him as well.

Gene cracked the reins, sending the horses scurrying off. The bulk of the Patriot troops still hadn't returned from the explosion sites, but when he really thought about it, all that had occurred in Willoughby had taken less than 30 minutes. Why did it seem like years had just passed?

He drove the wagon toward the open front gate, his daughter nearly comatose beside him. With absolutely no fanfare whatsoever, the bodies of General Miles Matheson and General Sebastian Monroe rolled out of the town of Willoughby for the very last time.

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**Don't hate me. Just trust me a little bit longer. Chapter 8 is up as well.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Ok, here we go. This is a big chapter. Flashbacks are in italics.  
**

**And I still own nothing...**

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Aaron heard the sound of an approaching wagon, and with a quick glance at the still sleeping Priscilla, crept towards the front of the gas station, praying it wasn't a group of Patriot scouts heading through. When he recognized the driver as Gene, he cracked open the screen door and stepped outside.

When did they get a wagon?

Looking closer, he realized Rachel was beside him, and Charlie was in the back. So where in the hell was Miles? And, for that matter, where the hell had Monroe gone off to?

But as the wagon pulled up to the station, he knew something was really wrong. There was a red stain all over Rachel's shirt, and if he wasn't mistaken, it looked a hell of a lot like blood. His own ran cold as he stepped to the back of the wagon and saw Charlie sitting between the bodies of her uncle and Sebastian Monroe. There was blood all over both men and some on her as well. She looked up at him blankly, not saying a word, and their eyes met and held for a minute.

"Wh-what happened?" he stuttered. This wasn't the plan. These two men weren't meant to go down like this, not now. Not ever. They were...larger than life. And those kinds of men didn't just die. "Charlie?"

The solemn look on Charlie's face disappeared from her eyes first, until a huge smile graced her face. She tapped both men on the forehead at the same time. First Miles, then Monroe sat up, and Aaron staggered back, his hand on his heart as his eyes widened. "Nano..."

Rachel stepped up next to him. "It's not Nano-tech, Aaron. It's special effects."

"Wha-"

Charlie hopped down from the bed of the wagon and looked at him. "I thought you guys had all sorts of movies before the Blackout. You always used to talk about them."

"Charlie, come on. Get moving," Rachel ordered, turning back to him as her daughter headed inside. "Aaron, we need you to gather Priscilla and all your supplies as soon as possible. We need to leave immediately."

Miles slid off the back of the wagon, wrapping an arm around Rachel as they headed for the station. "Aaron, man, come on. We don't have time to waste."

Monroe jumped down next, slapping him on the shoulder before following the others. "Stay-Puft."

He gaped at the retreating forms of the rest of his group. "What the hell is going on?"

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They'd ridden until the sun came up, and his butt was sorer than he'd ever really remembered it being. Now they were at least six hours north of Austin and at a point that had been deemed secure. And he still had absolutely no idea what had happened back in Willoughby. It had been too hard to chat during the ride, and both Miles and Monroe had wanted to make good time getting as far away as they could. So while he, Priscilla, and Gene had relaxed in the back of the wagon, Monroe drove and Charlie rode shotgun. That left Miles and Rachel on horseback and no one to get answers from.

They had found an abandoned little farmhouse to hide in, and watching the gang unloading, he'd finally had enough. He walked straight up to the Matheson clan, plus Monroe, and demanded the truth.

"Okay, before anyone is allowed to sleep, there's something I have to say. I have, like, multiple degrees, and before the Blackout, I was possibly one of, if not the, smartest person on the planet, and I have no freakin' clue what is going on here. Explain it to me like I was a six-year-old."

Five pairs of eyes blinked at him, almost in unison, before smiles and chuckles broke out among the group.

Miles nodded, stepping forward and patting him on the back. "Ok, Aaron, we'll tell you everything."

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"So...ok...talk," Aaron said. They were sitting around in a loose circle, sans Priscilla, who seemed to need a lot of sleep lately, and it felt to him a bit like a campfire tale was about to unfold. Maybe it was.

"Well, I guess it all started right about the time Miles disappeared," Rachel explained, glancing at the man in question.

"Actually, it started with Charlie," Monroe said quietly. Five heads swiveled in his direction, but he kept his eyes on Aaron. "She had a few things to say to me that I didn't really want to hear."

_They were sitting at the lake, his arm still slung around her shoulder. "Can I talk to you about something?"_

_"Yeah, of course." He pulled away to look down at her._

_"And you'd listen?" His eyebrow lifted. "Even if it was about Connor."_

_He looked down, then met her eyes again. "I'm listening."_

_"I think Connor...is only really interested in power. The kind that the Monroe Republic can give, not the kind that electricity provides." Charlie was stammering, and in a different situation, he would have found it adorable. "I mean, I think what he really wants is...your title, not..."_

_"Me." _

_She was immediately contrite. "Bass, I'm sorry."_

_"Charlie-"_

_"No, I debated whether to come to you about this, and I was thinking of going to Miles, but I didn't know what to say. Except that now that you and I talked, I thought..."_

_"Charlie." She stopped and looked up at him. "Take a breath."_

_She inhaled and released a huge sigh. "I'm sorry."_

_He wanted to be angry, but he found it impossible to be angry with her. "Can you tell me why you think my son is only interested in the Republic?"_

_She sighed again, biting her lip before offering an explanation. "It's some of the things he's said, the way he's said them. I kept trying to...bait him, I guess. I wanted to see if he was really there for you or...for the Republic. And the only answer that kept coming back was the Republic."_

_He hated this, hated hearing it. Because sadly, the same thought had been running through his own mind lately. But he'd just kept praying he was wrong. _

_"Miles said that Connor didn't seem all that into coming back to Texas with you. Not at first. Then all of a sudden he was on board, helping you escape and rushing back here. That was why Miles figured you offered him something, something he couldn't turn down," she explained._

_An offer he couldn't refuse. He'd wondered how Miles had discovered his plan to re__-__hatch the Republic. It shouldn't have surprised him that they knew each other so well. "It's all I have to give him."_

_Her eyes clouded over. "That's not true, Bass. It's not your fault if that's all he wants from you."_

_"Isn't it? He's my son, my blood." Rachel had said as much on the trip to Mexico. _

_"That's bullshit." He glanced down at her, unable to keep the bemusement from his eyes. "If I could have another minute with my father, I would take it." _

_So would he, with his own dad. But speaking of hers also brought unmistakable guilt. "And that's my fault as well."_

_"Bass." She stopped, her bright blue orbs burning into him. "You have a hand in it. And I can't completely absolve you of your part. But there are a lot of people responsible for the death of my father. And I hold Tom Neville even more responsible than you. After all, you wanted him alive, didn't you?"_

_He nodded. He had; he truly had wanted Ben brought to him as another method to use against Rachel. Or maybe because he thought Ben would be easier to convince than the ice queen. But nowhere in the scenario had Ben dying been a factor. _

_"So, let's just say there are some things we're going to have to learn to let go between us. Fair enough?"_

_"Fair enough," he said. _

_Charlie stood and stepped to the water's edge, gazing out over the lake for a few minutes before turning back to him. "All I mean is some of us would want a family over just about anything. But Connor..."_

_"Doesn't." He stood and walked over to her. "He's jealous of Miles. Of the friendship we have."_

_"What makes you say that?" she asked, her brow furrowed._

_"Some things he's said lately." Like, go find your girlfriend. "He's jealous of you, too, but it's on a lesser level."_

_"Me?"_

_"Yeah. Charlie, Miles and I have been two against the world for as long as I can remember. We didn't let anyone in. Not all the way." He gazed deeply into her stunning eyes. "Until you. He found you first, true, and there's no denying the way the two of you work together. Like extensions of each other. It's what he and I do. It's what you and I...do. In all our lives together, the only other person who has broken all the way through has been you."_

_She blinked at him for a moment, and then a huge grin spread across her face. "So when can I start dropping names of cities and you guys will know exactly what I'm talking about?"_

_He laughed, wrapping his arms loosely around her and pulling her into a hug. It was lovable, not romantic, and exactly where he needed to keep them at the moment. He released her, sliding a hand down and entwining their fingers. "You probably already can."_

_She was silent for a moment. "I'm sorry about Connor. Sorry that I had to say anything. It's just I have this feeling..."_

_"You have great instincts. Don't ever be afraid to trust them." He dropped her hand and returned to his spot on the log. "I understand what you're saying, but he is my son, and I can't just give up on him."_

_She plopped back down beside him. "I wouldn't expect you to."_

_But he'd been a general, and tough decisions sometimes came with the territory. "But if I can't trust him, I need to know that as well."_

_"I'll help out anyway I can."_

_He rested a hand on her shoulder. "Let's just find your uncle first. And then, well, we might all have to have a big chat."_

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Aaron gaped at Monroe. "So Charlie just mentioned that Connor might have a hidden agenda and you believed it?"

Charlie shot him a dirty look. "Why would I lie, Aaron?"

"No, no...I'm not saying you would. I just..." he stammered. "It seems an awful lot to take on a hunch."

"And we didn't take it on a hunch. That was the first part of the discussion. There was a lot more." Monroe was eyeing him like he was stupid. At the moment, he felt like he was.

"And that started after we got Miles back," Rachel said.

"So when you were laid up recovering..."

"We were planning our next move," Miles offered.

He felt like he'd gotten trapped in a spy novel. This was what happened when you surrounded yourself with warlords and generals. God, he needed a vacation.

_The flap on the tent pulled back__,__ and Bass warily stuck his head in. "So, uh, can I come in?"_

_Miles looked up at his best friend, than over to his lover and his niece. "Uh, yeah. We're waiting for you."_

_Monroe stepped in, bottle of booze in hand__,__ and passed it to Rachel, as if waiting for approval. "Get well gift."_

_Her eyebrow shot up. "For him or for me?"_

_Bass cleared his throat. "I just thought you, uh, might want to...I'm trying here, Rachel."_

_Miles grinned, determined to let his buddy off the hook. "She's just yanking your chain, pal."_

_"Well, consider it yanked."_

_His face sobered as he took in both Bass and Rachel. "Now, listen, I know that the two of you may never be able to bury the hatchet and ever be friends like you once were. But there's a lot riding on the next few weeks. And we all know what we have to do here, so can you put it away long enough to get the job done?"_

_Charlie's amusement was obvious as the two in question eyed each other up. He couldn't help but join her in it. Rachel and Bass were like a tiger and a lion trying to decide who was deadlier. She spoke first. "It is possible...that Bass has changed...a little. And it is also possible that...I didn't really want to see it."_

_He looked at his niece, surprise on his face. Charlie had told him that they'd formed a bit of a truce in his absence. Maybe she'd been right. "Bass?"_

_"You know me. I throw in with who I have to, right?" Monroe chuckled, trailing off when he saw the seriousness on both his and Charlie's face. "Yeah, I'm on team 'good guys'. Hurray for me."_

_"And the Republic?" he asked._

_"I don't want it." Bass's tone was sharp and the answer was final._

_Miles nodded. "All right, good. So what's first?"_

_Bass spoke, his voice low. "It's been brought to my attention that Connor...that we might have a problem with Connor."_

_"A problem with Connor?" Miles asked._

_"That the Republic may be the only thing Connor is interested in."_

_"You're surprised by this?" _

_"Miles." Charlie's reprimand was swift. "Come on."_

_His brother did look like he was struggling, so he dropped the sarcasm. "Sorry. Bass?"_

_"I wanted it to be different. I wanted it to be better. I thought maybe Connor had enough of Emma in him, enough of her good heart to make a difference. To make it into what we envisioned in the first place. And to make up for all the things I did..." Bass trailed off, unable to go on. _

_"I'm sorry, brother," Miles whispered. Apparently, the words including Bass back into his family worked, for the happiness in his best friend's eyes was palpable. "So what makes you think Connor is only here for that?"_

_"Charlie."_

_Miles looked to his niece. "I've been spending a lot of time with Connor. He's just said things that make me think it's all he wants."_

_"If this is true, that's a problem, Bass."_

_I know." Monroe's face was somber. "But he's my son, Miles. I owe him at least a chance to prove this all wrong."_

_He nodded. Yeah, he supposed he could see giving the kid a chance. "What do you want to do about it?"_

_"I need to know if I can trust him." _

_"Fair enough. We'll work on that in a bit then." He looked to the women in the tent, certain that Bass already knew what was coming. "The way I see it, we have a really big problem. We can't win."_

_Bass scoffed, as if that answer had occurred to him weeks ago. _

_Rachel was less glib. He'd figured her strong sense of right and wrong wouldn't allow her to just quit. "What are you saying, Miles? We just give up?"_

_"Rachel, we can't win this battle. We got nothing here. We've got a war clan, and nothing else against trained military soldiers. And these training camps, these cadets. I mean, we're sinking, Rach, and I just got nothing." He hated breaking the news to her this way, but ripping the Band-Aid right off was always the way to go._

_"So we all just...die?" she asked him. _

_"No, Rachel, not all of us." He met his best friend's gaze. "Just Bass and I."_

_"Excuse me?" Charlie sputtered. _

_He kept his eyes on his brother. "I'm saying we go down like Redford and Newman."_

_"Who's Redford and Newman?" _

_Miles chuckled. "I forget how young you are sometimes, kiddo."_

_"They were two of the best actors before the Blackout," her mother explained. She turned to the men. "But Butch and Sundance went down in a haze of bullets, and that's not happening here, Miles."_

_"I'm not talking about Butch and Sundance." His gaze was still fixed on Bass._

_It took a few seconds, but then the biggest shit-eating grin crossed Monroe's face. "You son of a bitch."_

_Miles turned his dark eyes on his lover. "I'm talking about The Sting."_

_Rachel's baby blues widened, and she let out a huge laugh. Charlie looked around the group, a clueless mirth on her face. "Uh, can someone please explain this to the girl who was five when the Blackout happened?"_

_"I gotta hand it to you boys. It's pretty ingenious." Rachel turned to her daughter, and Miles was thrilled at the warmth he saw on her face. It looked like she might go along with his crazy plan. God, he loved her. "The Sting was a movie, Charlie. A movie where two con men set up all the people they needed to, to get what they needed done." _

_His niece looked confused. "So we want to con somebody?"_

_"We want to con the Patriots, kid." He glanced at Bass. "And, uh, looks like we might have to throw Connor in as well." _

_Bass nodded, but the effort it took to lump his son in with the bad guys was obvious. Miles hoped Charlie was wrong; that if Bass got Connor alone for a while, he'd be able to make his son see the light. He doubted it, his niece's instincts had gotten crazy good, but he hoped. For his oldest friend's sake. But something in Bass's eyes make him think his buddy didn't believe it as well. _

_"There is one other thing, Miles. One thing that we're going to need to do. And you know it as well as I do." Bass sat there, waiting for his brother to voice the thoughts he'd already concluded. _

_"We have to kill the President."_

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"Wait, what!" Aaron shouted, sitting up straight. "Kill the President. You mean Davis?"

"That's exactly who we meant," Bass said.

"Meant?" He swallowed. "The President..."

"He's dead, Aaron," Miles said.

"Uh...are you sure?" Yeah, he was asking two men who had conquered and ruled a country if they were certain they'd taken out an enemy.

"We're sure."

Aaron's eyes widened at their youngest member. Charlie was in on it. His head was spinning. "You mean, last night the five of you carried out the assassination of the Patriot's president?"

"It had to be done," Miles explained. "Bass and I have to disappear for awhile. Gather the troops and prep for a bit. There was no way we could leave Davis in charge while that happened."

"But won't someone else just take it over?"

"Yeah, sure, eventually," Monroe agreed. "But we cut off the head. So for a little while, things are going to be chaos over in the Patriot's world. Now we have a small window of opportunity to work with."

"So you're gonna get reinforcements and then come back?"

"Like the Phoenix from the flames, Aaron," Rachel said. "It's poetic."

"It's...insanity!"

"It's necessary," Miles said.

"So the President is dead. And you set up the Patriots?" Aaron asked. He was a genius; why did he feel so in over his head here?

Miles smiled. "Something like that. The situation is bad. Bass and I have been in more than enough of those to know that sometimes, retreat and regroup is the only way possible."

"And you just hatched this...plan, one day in Miles's tent?"

"Well, there were actually several meetings," Monroe said.

Aaron paused, thinking back. "So that whole week where Gene limited access to you, Miles, that was all a ploy?"

Five faces smirked back at him, but it was Charlie who answered. "Well, we needed time to get it all together."

"And then we had to bring in Dad," Rachel said, rubbing her father's arm.

_"Gene?"_

_The doctor coughed. "I think you're all a bit insane."_

_"True," Bass said. "But are you in?"_

_"So your plan is to...convince the Patriots, the war clan members, and your own son..." Gene nodded at Monroe. "That you hate each other."_

_Miles's chin rested on his hand. "Pretty much."_

_"So that you can up and disappear?"_

_"Just so we're clear, Doc. Miles and I are not disappearing just for the hell of it. The only way we're ever going to defeat these Patriot bastards is with soldiers. Real hard-ass trained soldiers," Bass said. "There are still some militia troops left out there that could be of real use. And hopefully, Cali will pony up some as well."_

_"I understand that, Monroe. But there's a battle being fought here right now. What happens to all the people you leave behind?" the doctor asked._

_"We're going to try to keep as many people safe as we can," Miles promised. "But if he and I are dead for real, who the hell is going to care enough to fight these sons of bitches?"_

_The older man shook his head._

_"Gene, are you in?" They needed Rachel's dad on their side, but if they couldn't convince the man, he wouldn't force him._

_The older man scanned the little gang before him, his focus resting on his daughter and granddaughter the longest. "Well, why the hell not? What do you need me to do?"_

_"We'll get to that." He eyed his crew, his family, really. "This is going to require a lot of acting, from all of us. Is everyone in?"_

_The response was unanimous. They were setting up the con of the century. _

_"All right, first...we have to start convincing our own people that the two of us are getting on each other's nerves. That we disagree...about pretty much everything. Bass, ideas?"_

_"I think the best thing to do here is get Connor away from everyone else. I need time with him, Miles. Time to see if he could be happy just being my son, a part of my family. If we drive a wedge between you and I, he might open up to me. If he thinks I'm all gung-ho to restart the Republic, it might make it easier for me to get to the heart of the matter." _

_He nodded. Not a half bad idea. "I could see that."_

_"Also, I have another reason I want to be separated from the group." Bass locked eyes with Charlie, and Miles felt a shiver run up his spine. He was certain he was insane, but it felt as if there was a spike of heat between his niece and his best friend. He shook it away. Nah, that was nuts. "Tom Neville is out there, and I don't want him anywhere near Charlie."_

_"Bass," she hissed. Since when did she call him Bass?_

_Miles turned to her. "What the hell happened?"_

_"It's nothing, Miles."_

_"Like hell it's not." Charlie shot Monroe a venomous look._

_Rachel joined in. "Charlie, what happened?"_

_When she remained silent, Bass supplied the explanation. "He attacked her...when we were searching for you."_

_"Bass..." She was annoyed, Miles could tell, but the resigned look on her face meant she was at least going to explain. "Neville found me when I was looking for you. He was upset about Jason. We fought. I got away, okay? I'm fine." _

_Her eyes met Monroe's again, and he was certain more was exchanged there, but since the two of them seemed to be able to carry on a conversation the same way he and Bass could, he wasn't able to discern any more. But his best friend seemed contented to leave the story where it stood. Bass and Charlie was something he might have to keep an eye on. "You should have told us, kiddo. I told you we were going to have to kill Tom Neville."_

_"Agreed," Bass said, his voice tight. "But we might also be able to use him for a bit yet. I don't want him around her, so I say I take Connor, split off, track Neville down, and keep him where I can see him." _

_"I'm not worried about him," Charlie said._

_"No, I like that plan. Charlie, he's right. I want Tom as far away from you as possible." He looked at her. "I'm sorry, kid. I need to make sure you're safe right now."_

_His niece sighed, and he knew it was directed at him. "Fine."_

_"Charlie, honey, you should have told us," Rachel said._

_"Miles was the top priority at the time. I'm okay, Mom." Her tone of voice seemed to indicate that the subject be closed. As long as Bass was going to keep Neville on a leash, he'd let it drop. _

_"All right, next." He turned to his brother. "How are we going to convince your kid that you and I have problems?"_

_There was a pause. "Toledo?"_

_He crinkled his forehead and thought it over for a second. "It could work."_

_Charlie was grinning at him, but Rachel and Gene looked stumped. "Care to fill the rest of us in?" _

_"I decide to attack a camp or raid something, and Rachel you just do your thing," Bass explained._

_"And what thing is that?"_

_"That thing where you yell at me and tell Miles not to follow me because I'm a bad influence." Bass grinned at her, and for the first time that Miles could really remember, there wasn't a hint of evil or malice in it. Maybe for his sake, they really were going to try. _

_Rachel blinked. "I'm sorry, and how is this going to work?"_

_"I convince Miles to go. You get mad at him, and you fight, maybe even break up." Bass looked at him, and he nodded. Probably not a bad touch. "When we get back, I find out that you two had actually set me up, and I'm the one on the outs with Miles."_

_His lover exchanged a look with her daughter. "And you two have used this before?"_

_"A variation of it, yeah," he explained. "It looks like a rift has been caused. Makes it easy to explain why Bass would walk away."_

_"But it won't be that easy, will it?" Charlie asked, concern in her eyes as she glanced between the two men. "You're going to have to hurt each other. Really...hurt each other."_

_Dark brown met blue, and he saw the confirmation in his brother's eyes. Yes, they were going to have to go for the jugular. "It's going to get brutal, Charlie. Between all of us."_

_"Charlotte," Bass said, and his niece gazed sadly at his best friend. Yeah, there was something going on here. "You're ready for this. When this starts, I'm the enemy again. To all of you."_

_"Bass..."_

_"No, Miles. I know things are going to be said. You let me have it, you hear? Don't go all soft on me." He nodded at Monroe. "It's the only way."_

_Christ, they were just repairing their friendship. If this wound up driving another stake into them, he wasn't sure they could survive it. Either one of them. _

_"Wait, wait..." Charlie jumped up. "So we're saying that we're all turning on Bass. He's going to be somewhere out there away from all of us, with a plan that, at best, is sketchy. And where anything could go wrong, half of it is up to chance, and the plan might have to be altered at the last minute. Is that what you're saying?"_

_Yeah, kid, that's the plan. But he couldn't say that to her. She'd become quite a tough fighter over the past year and a half, but she still had a heart of gold deep inside. And something about this, check that, something about Bass being separated from the group was making her edgy. And just the thought of that was making him edgy. But she had brought up an interesting point. "She's kind of right. You need a spy in your camp."_

_His brother was on the same page. It was nice to be strategizing together again. "Who you thinking?"_

_He paused for a moment, and was surprised when Rachel spoke up. "Um, I might be able to help with that."_

_"Rachel?"_

_She looked at Bass. "We were fighting-"_

_"As usual," Gene muttered._

_"Dad." Her father looked contrite. "Anyway, I may have said a few things to Scanlon about you, Bass. About how they were fools to follow you."_

_"Did it work?" Monroe asked._

_"I don't think so."_

_"Yeah, I figured it wouldn't. He seemed happy to be fighting alongside of me." Bass shrugged. "At least he did when he first came to camp. You think he's the way to go?"_

_Miles thought it over. "Well, if you think he can be loyal to you, we can probably use him. He'll have to stay behind when you go. Then he can stab us in the back and come running to you. It'll be useful if the plan has to be changed." _

_"I think I hate this whole plan," Charlie said. _

_"You're strong enough to make it through this, Charlotte."_

_And there was that look again. Oh, man. He really did hope he didn't have to kill his best friend for real. _

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"So when you fought...that was all part of the plan?" He was stuck with a bunch of lunatics. Of course, he'd been stuck with a Nano-possessed Priscilla for the last month, so his normal set of friends was probably a step up at this point.

"Yeah," Bass said, stretching back on his side and propping up on one arm. Was the guy leaning particularly close to Charlie or was he just making it up? "Pretty much."

"And the mustard gas?"

"No, that was completely unexpected," Miles said. "None of us had any idea those sons of bitches would unleash something like that."

"But in all honesty, it gave us the perfect thing to fight over," Monroe explained.

_He hurried the gang in the direction of the abandoned gas station he'd scoped out earlier. A backup rendezvous point was always a habit for he and Monroe, the soldier in them both unable to ignore the years of training. He watched as all that remained of their little party made it safely into the building before yanking his best friend to the side._

_"Bass..."_

_"Jesus, Miles. Mustard gas?" His oldest friend was completely back, all shades of the insane dictator long gone. "We pulled some terrible shit, but..."_

_They had never done anything as horrific as this. "We gotta get it off of them. Get rid of it somehow."_

_"Agreed. How?" _

_"I don't know..." He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. But he could see the wheels turning in his brother's head. "What?"_

_"This is perfect. This is what we fight over." He crooked an eyebrow, encouraging a further explanation. "We want to get some. I want to use it. You don't."_

_Miles could see the plan shaping up in his head. "That could work."_

_"But in the mean time, we actually steal it. Get it the hell away from these cocksuckers, and, I don't know, bury it or something. Do you think the mad genius could come up with an idea?" _

_He wanted to sigh__.__ They were doing really good with each other, his best friend and his lover, but they would never really be pals. "She might."_

_"There's no time to warn her." Bass lowered his head, closing his eyes. "Or Charlie."_

_They were going to have a conversation about his niece and the vibes he was reading off his best buddy at some point; now just wasn't the time. "They know the plan. They'll pick it up as soon as we start."_

_"All right. Let's do it."_

_Monroe turned towards the gas station, and Miles reached a hand out to stop him. "Bass...this is it."_

_His best friend nodded. "It's all right, brother. I can handle it."_

_Miles tilted his head. He wasn't so sure. What was going to come, what was going to be said, was about to rub all the barely scabbed over wounds completely raw. On all of them. Before the night ended, Bass was going to take Connor and disappear. And after that, he was on his own. Anything could go wrong, and there was always the slightest chance that they might never see each other again. _

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Aaron gaped at Bass. "So...you coming in the station and flipping out, that was all planned out?"

Bass grinned. "Is there a reason you're having such a hard time understanding this? You're a freaking genius."

"I'm just trying to process it all. You screaming at each other. The plan to go get the mustard gas. You calling Rachel a bitch **numerous** times..."

He glanced over to the woman herself and found a slight smile on her pretty face. "While I'm sure Bass didn't really have any objections, it was, in fact, a part of it."

"Okay, I know I missed, like, a lot of it, but, Rachel, you said it went really far."

Aaron was greeted with a bit of an uncomfortable silence in the barn. Miles found his voice first. "It did. Things got...a little out of hand."

"Things got entirely out of hand," Charlie corrected. "Things were said, and people were hurt. And while it might have been part of the plan, even though we all knew it was coming, I don't think any of us knew the damage we would inflict on one another."

Having taught Charlie as a student in Wisconsin, he couldn't have been more proud of both her intelligence and her innate wisdom. The little girl had done a lot of growing up in the past year, and she seemed to realize, even before the battle-hardened adults in the room, how much they had unintentionally hurt one another. Aaron studied her; her lovely blue eyes trained on Monroe. She'd gotten so very pretty, and he felt a bit like a dad where she was concerned...wait, why were her eyes trained on Monroe?

"She's right," Miles said. "While it might have been necessary to pull off our little scam, Bass, I'm sorry."

"Me, too," Charlie piped in. "And thank you. You had the hardest part."

"You did a good thing for us, Monroe," Gene added.

Rachel, of course, spoke last. But Aaron was amazed at the response when it came. "Thank you, Bass."

Monroe's crystal blue eyes shimmered. Who would have ever guessed the President of the Republic he spent years living in was a crier? But even Aaron couldn't deny him this moment of acceptance.

Monroe said nothing, just nodded and turned his head away.

It took another minute for the moment to pass, but when it did, Aaron found himself with a million other questions. "So you fought on purpose, stole the gas. Neutralized it, again a part of the plan, and pulled a double cross on Monroe...which was actually a triple cross because it wasn't Monroe you were double crossing in the first place."

"Exactly."

"I don't even know what the hell I just said, Miles!" he shouted.

"Okay, Rachel and I broke up, but we didn't really. But instead of actually betraying Bass, he knew about it."

"I have to say, you two do know how to fight." Monroe's grin was blinding. "Although, Rachel, I wasn't expecting you to go for the obvious rumor about Miles and me."

She cocked an eyebrow. "And tell me, Bass, that you didn't appreciate hearing the words 'Bass wins' when it comes to Miles?"

God, it was like walking into the middle of a movie. Everyone else knew what was going on, and you just stood around like an idiot. "What obvious rumor?"

A laugh rippled out over the group. "The one we're they're really an old married couple."

Aaron gawked at the doctor, eyes wide. "I don't even want to know. Just keep explaining."

Miles must have felt a little sorry for him, so he continued the story. "We took Connor and our spy, Scanlon, and grabbed the gas. When we brought it back, the rest played out. Bass took off with Connor, and I'm assuming tracked down Neville."

"Actually, he found me," Monroe explained. "Connor took the bait. He seemed awfully happy that we were still going to reform the Republic. But I needed to snag some guns from the stash at the power plant, and then I was going to hunt down Neville. He found us there."

"Convenient," Miles offered.

"It really was. Saved at least a day's worth of tracking. And the son of a bitch was cracking up, too. But Neville's crazy came in handy."

"And you were just out there...on your own...with Neville and a half-assed plan?" The insanity he'd stumbled right into, starting with Ben's unexpected death, seemed like it was never going to stop.

"I'm a soldier, Stay-Puft. I've been in worse situations."

"Although things did start to go wrong when we found out the Patriots had an entire tankard full of mustard gas and not just a few barrels," Charlie said. "That was when we needed Scanlon to come through."

"And he did," Monroe confirmed. "He brought me the info I needed to alter the plan as I saw fit. I have to say, Miles, when I realized I was robbing an entire train, I got a little pumped."

"Yeah, it was fun." These two were like ten-year-olds who had never grown up. "You should have seen Charlie though. We had a hell of a good time taking that thing."

Okay, the looks passing between Charlie and Monroe were making him uncomfortable. Surely that couldn't be anything like...attraction there. Just the thought made him shudder. And anyway, Miles was acting way too calm about it. If the man sensed something odd with his niece and his best friend, he would take care of it...right? The world hadn't gotten weird enough for something like that to happen. Right? Oh, God, let's just move on. "But there was no gas in the tankard?"

"Yeah, that was about the point where the plan completely fell apart," Bass said, then looked at Miles. "And you, you son of bitch, I was gonna kill you. You're all 'Neville? Really?' Do you know how hard I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing? You almost blew the whole thing right there."

"You would have blown it, dick, not me."

The words were sarcastic, but the tone was not. And from what Aaron could tell, there was a friendship re-blossoming there. Unless the asshole tried something with Charlie. Ew, icky thoughts...check, please.

Although, considering what they'd just pulled off, the entire gang seemed in high spirits. And he still felt like an idiot. "So why did the plan almost fall apart?"

"Because I almost blew Tom Neville's head off when he pulled a gun on Charlie," Bass said.

"Neville pulled a gun on you?" he asked her.

She nodded. "Yeah, and Miles stepped in front of the gun. And Bass pulled his gun. It was a frickin' shootout at the OK Corral."

Aaron grinned. He was the one who'd taught her about the Wild West.

"Then because he wasn't going to give it up, Miles and I had to take him down. It started to escalate from there. We almost lost the whole thing."

"Why?"

"Because the gas wasn't there, Aaron," Miles said. "That meant it was back in town. And I needed Bass's help. So I had to offer him what looked like an ultimatum."

"And I had to pretend to struggle with it. I had no intention of not coming back to Willoughby, but by this point things were so muddled with Connor...I had to rush my hand. The whole point of separating him was to see if he was only in it for the Republic. So I offered him a chance to be a hero..."

"And?" Aaron asked.

Bass's mood darkened. "He didn't take it."

Wow, he felt bad for the guy. Imagine that. Feeling bad for the evil dictator who'd spent a large part of a year hunting you and your friends down to try and wipe you off the face of the earth. But that wasn't exactly fair. The guy who joked with him, called him Stay-Puft, and had saved his life once or twice, seemed so far removed from the megalomaniac that ruled Philadelphia that Aaron had a really difficult time meshing the two together in his head. Maybe that was why Miles always failed to kill Monroe. Because his best friend had been trapped in there somewhere all along.

"Maybe you were right, Rachel. It's my blood."

"Maybe," Rachel said, her icy blue eyes on Monroe. "Or maybe he's a product of his environment. Or maybe he's just a scared kid. Or maybe power is the only thing he's ever known. Too many variables there to say it's all on you, Bass."

And where was the proverbial pin when you wanted it to drop? The entire gang had gone silent. Rachel could be cold when she wanted to, but Aaron remembered warmth inside her as well. She'd just extended some to a man she hated. Was he being possessed by the Nano, because this was all going far too smoothly?

"All right, all right. Enough with the sappiness," Miles quipped, and the mood immediately lightened. "I believe we were telling the man a story."

"I'm caught up." He held up a hand.

"Okay."

"But I remember yesterday, in the gas station. You said you wanted to kidnap the President. Kidnap him, Miles. And you..." He motioned to Monroe. "You were the one that wanted to kill him."

"Yeah, that was all part of-"

He cut Miles off. "The plan."

"Well, yeah."

"But you, Monroe. You were pissed yesterday, after you went to go find Connor." He sighed heavily. "I'm going to jump off the barn roof if you say that was part of the plan."

"Yeah, I was pissed. And, no, that was for real." Monroe sat up from his reclining position, drawing his knees up. "I admit I lost it a bit. That was real frustration I was venting there. I had to leave my son behind, and I hoped I'd at least have a chance to see him again. To make things...not right, but better. To maybe offer him one more shot. But he was gone. With Tom Neville. And I knew I wouldn't be back in Willoughby after the assassination. It was my last chance."

Aaron shook his head. Jesus, when had Sebastian Monroe become a human being to him? Maybe about the time the dream version of the man defended him from the Nano-tech. The alternate reality had been in his mind, after all. And apparently, his subconscious had deemed Monroe on 'their' side at some point.

"But I knew Texas and California were going to go to war, anyway." Bass grinned. "That much I knew."

"But..."

"Relax, Aaron, that war was on when the Patriots had a President. Without him, they're going to be running around like chickens with their heads cut off. They're going to have to reorganize before they can dive back into a war with anyone." Miles leaned back against Rachel's leg as she wrapped an arm around his shoulders. Yes, this he could handle, Rachel and Miles. Not Bass and...never mind. Not even thinking it.

"So this was..."

"A part of it. All of it...was a part of it," Miles said.

"But you were fighting about it."

Bass chuckled. "We were fake fighting about it."

"We've been perfecting that move since we were ten."

"But Monroe left. And you spent the afternoon convincing us that we needed to come up with a plan to kidnap the President." This was more intricate than any computer code he'd ever written.

"I was never convincing you to do anything. The plan was to kill the President. Everything else was what we needed people to believe."

"But who were you talking to when it was just us in that gas station?"

"Joe and his daughter," Rachel said. "We needed to keep them away from town, away from the explosions. Away from the whole plan in general. It's safer for them if they know nothing about this."

"Sorry, Aaron, we would have included you. But you seemed to have a lot on your plate with Priscilla." Miles shrugged.

A lot on his plate with Priscilla. That was the understatement of the Blackout. He looked up and caught Rachel's eye. What a fun topic that would be once they got to it.

"You can understand why I was relieved to find out that she couldn't see the future? That she couldn't see things coming." Rachel gazed at him, a look of concern on her face.

He nodded. "Yeah, I guess so."

Charlie smirked. "You all right, Aaron. You look a little pale."

"Yeah, Charlie, I'm great." He glared at her, but all he found was amusement on her face. "Life just has kind of sucked for the past few weeks, and now, I found out that everything I thought was happening wasn't really happening. Maybe I'm still inside the Nano..."

"Aaron, this is real," Rachel assured him.

"Can we just get to the damn part where you kill the President?"

Miles nodded, trademark half grin in place. "Obviously the explosions were planned."

"Obviously."

"We set them up outside of Willoughby. Far away enough to draw troops from the center of town. It was a military procedure we'd used in the Republic." The guy looked so relaxed, Aaron couldn't even see shades of the general Miles had once been. But here he was chatting about it like it was old hat. It probably was. "Except for the one in the abandoned storefront. Charlie and I sneaked into the gates one night to set that guy up. All Bass had to do was drop a match at the right point and the whole thing blew."

"Getting the others was tougher," Bass explained. "Since they were spread in four different directions, I had to run like the devil was on my heels just to light them all. But long enough wicks did seem to do the trick."

"You ran the city?" God, he couldn't even make it up the stairs sometimes. "The entire city?"

"Yeah."

Some childhood-bullied part of him still hated physically fit men. Bastard. "Good for you."

Bass just laughed and looked away.

Miles sighed. "Do you want to hear this?"

"Yes," Aaron said. At this point, to say exasperation was setting in was redundant. Plus, he had to admit it was getting a little bit exciting. But just a little. "Go, tell me. Explosions, bombs, yadda, yadda, yadda."

"Well, they worked. They got a lot of Patriots out of the city and left us with a bare minimum."

"And that's when Bass brought the President out at gunpoint," Charlie said. Was that pride in her voice?

"And fake fight number 12 began," Monroe said.

"You know, for five seconds there, I actually thought you might put down the gun."

"Yeah, well, you were so sincere in the 'I'm gonna shoot you thing', I thought I could at least make it look like I considered listening to you." Bass grinned at his best friend.

"Yeah, I'm a method actor."

"Idiot."

"Dick."

"Guys!" This banter between them was getting ridiculous. Was he going to have to live in this sitcom from now on? "When did you shoot the President?"

"I didn't shoot him," Miles said. "I shot Bass."

He looked at Monroe. "Well, when did you shoot him?"

"I didn't shoot him either. I shot Miles."

"You shot each other?" Before either could speak, he held up a hand. "No, I get it. I saw The Sting. You shot each other with blanks. Where the hell did you get blanks?"

Bass laughed. "We have a genius on our team. You think we couldn't come up with fake blood and bullets?"

And, Jesus, that was a compliment from one ex-dictator to a former prisoner who hated his guts. But it was true. If anyone could find a way to convince the Patriots the two men had murdered one another, it would be Rachel. "Ok, so you're fake dead on the ground. Who the hell shot the President?"

"That would be me."

He gaped at her. "Charlie..."

"I was the obvious choice, Aaron. These guys had to carry out the distraction. I carried out the rest."

His head slumped against his hand. "Just finish the story."

"After I knew the bombs had succeeded, I sent Charlie away to go find Bass. That was for Joe's benefit. Where she really went was behind the buildings and into the President's office."

"By herself?" he asked.

"No, I went, too," Gene said. "If there was even the slightest chance Truman was going to be there, I needed to go. But he wasn't."

Aaron understood. Gene deserved his revenge on the man who had killed Marion. He'd taken revenge for Cynthia, after all. And at least the man had backed up his granddaughter. "So you sent her to the President's office..."

"There was a threat to the man's security. As soon as Bass released Davis, and I shot my best friend, soldiers swooped in and ushered the President right back to his office. But there weren't a lot of troops left, so only two men got him off the street. Only three men for Charlie and Gene to handle."

"So you guys let Charlie kill the President."

Bass scoffed, his electric eyes locked on Charlie. "Believe me, pal. There were a few arguments and fights about that one."

"But as she said, it became obvious that the rest of us were needed elsewhere, so...it fell to her," Miles explained.

_He looked at his niece. "Charlie, go and find Bass. Right now."_

_"But-"_

_"Look wherever you have to, but find him. Now!" She nodded, speeding away from the rest of the gang. _

_"Miles, what the hell is going on?" _

_She heard Joe ask that question as she set off, her grandfather right behind her. She glanced back at him and nodded. He returned the gesture. He hated this kind of stuff, but he would do the job anyway. _

_They snuck behind a few buildings, circling carefully back to the other side of the street and to the rear entrance to the President's office. Quietly creeping up the stairs, she reached for the doorknob, secretly hoping she wouldn't have to take the time to break in. But she'd trained for it just in case. Bass and Miles had spent several days going over how to pick a lock with her. She could do it if she had to. _

_Luckily, the arrogance rate of the Patriots was astounding__,__ and the thing was left unlocked. Either that or any secret information was now hidden somewhere less obvious than the main office. She slipped in the room, crossing quickly to the window and peeking out to the street below. Everything appeared to be going according to plan. She looked at Gene, who planted himself directly behind the door. Now it was just a matter of waiting._

_Remaining in the shadows beside the window, she heard the shots echo out from below. She locked eyes with her grandfather. This was happening now. _

_They heard the men hurrying up the stairs. The President threw open the door and stepped into the darkness without even a thought for his safety. Idiot. She stepped from the shadows, her knife already sliding into one of the Patriots as her grandfather slit the throat of the other. Gene dragged the Patriot the rest of the way into the room and looked at her. _

_"Grandpa, go. I got this."_

_"Are you sure?"_

_"They need you down there. Go."_

_He left the room shutting the door behind him._

_Charlie's bow had been aimed at President Davis one second after she'd killed the soldier. The man seemed not only surprised, but appalled that anyone had breached his sanctuary._

_"How dare you. I am the President of the Patriots."_

_"Yeah, and I'm Charlie Matheson. I helped take down the Monroe Republic."_

_He scoffed. "Sebastian Monroe was never a President."_

_Okay, that pissed her off. Didn't help that she loved the guy now. Regardless, he'd been a far better foe than this jackass. "And yet he refuses to die. You're not going to have that problem."_

_She pulled the trigger and the arrow imbedded itself in the man's eye. He seemed a little shocked that she'd taken the shot, but he collapsed all the same._

_Finally. She'd finally been able to shoot a damn dictator in the head. _

_She hurried over to the body and checked his pulse. The son of a bitch was dead. She left the arrow in the body; both Miles and Bass thought her weapon of choice was solid. Far more people had arrows than guns__,__ and the range of suspects would be far wider._

_Grabbing one of the chairs, she lodged it up against the doorknob and turned to the side window. Her getaway route would drop her into the side alley, away from all the action. She scurried down the fire escape and hopped to the ground. There was a lot of noise from the front street where her uncle and Bass were playing out their little tragedy. She chuckled as she made her way around the back of the buildings and over towards the open and completely unguarded front gate. She'd slip through the little side access point the stupid Patriots had never discovered, how many times had they used that thing, and meet her family down the road. _

_It was done. She laughed to herself as she walked away from the little town of Willoughby. _

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Aaron just gaped at her. What had his little Charlie become? Oh, who the hell was he kidding? She'd become a warrior because she had to, and she'd become one way before this. She was a fighter, far more in tune with Miles or Monroe than with the young, naive girl she'd once been.

"Wow." He was almost at a loss for words. "So Gene you just told them they were dead and they believed you."

"Well, they weren't the most seasoned of soldiers."

"Yeah, right, cause they were busy with the bombs." He looked at the leaders of the gang. "And you two just played dead?"

"Had to." Miles shrugged. "We played dead. Gene announced it. Rachel sobbed. They loaded our bodies. We picked up Charlie outside of town and...here we are."

"And the people you've left behind?"

"Hey, we did everything to make sure that no one, not even Joe and his daughter, look like they were involved with us," Bass said.

"You do know that this was possibly the most risky and irresponsible plan ever, right?" Smiles and head shakes were his only response. He sighed. "So now what? What the hell happens now?"

"Now, we locate some of those militia troops. And we send a convoy to California. See if we can't convince Governor Affleck to help out," Miles said. "We're going to keep tabs on Texas. Hope that Blanchard gets better. Basically, this is the part where we set up the second wave."

"And then go back after them again."

"Their President is dead, but they're not done for good. Truman's still out there," Bass explained. If anyone should understand making a comeback, it was this guy. "We need an army to defeat these guys. And now's our chance to get one."

He sighed. "Yeah, I guess."

"Aaron, it's late," Rachel said. "We've been up more than 24 hours now. Everyone could use some sleep. What do you say we save all other questions for later?"

He cleared his throat. "Right, of course. We could all use the rest."

Everyone stood up and stretched, each making their way to various sleeping spots. He noticed Miles and Rachel lying down in a stall, a bit of privacy from the gang he supposed. Gene rested back against a bale of hay, legs crossed at the ankle as he slouched down. He moved over to Priscilla, preparing to curl up beside her.

Turning back, he saw Charlie and Bass lying next to each other, not touching but close enough to reach out if they wanted to. The space between them wasn't really enough to make him comfortable, but it wasn't really enough to raise suspicion either. So why was he so suspicious? And what the hell right did he have to say anything to her anyway?

He shook his head and sat down. They had so much more to talk about yet. How the hell were he and Rachel going explain the Nano-tech to the others?

Tomorrow it was going to be his turn to tell a story.

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**So there it is. My own little con to set up the Patriots and get rid of their President. Thanks to the classic movie, The Sting, for the idea. This is one of my favorite movies, and re-watching it a month and a half ago gave me the idea. And while parts of the season finale worked for me, others didn't. So I set up my own plan. We still have a bit more to go here and a few more conversations to be had. But this is why it took so long, because all of this had to work out with what I'd previously written and what had previously happened on the show. So don't be mad. I didn't really kill Miles and Monroe. ;)**


	9. Chapter 9

**So here it is, the final chapter to this story. But don't worry, I have plans to continue this.  
**

**Even though we are so far off canon now, a small bit of dialogue comes from Declaration Of Independence just because I thought that little scene between Charlie and Miles was so sweet that I wanted to incorporate it into this. Also, a few things may seem a little off from the show, but this is continuing out from New Vegas which was different, so let's just say we're still in my fantasy Revolution world. ;)**

**Also, I want to thank everyone who has reviewed, favorited, and followed this story. You guys are the best! Thank you so much. **

**And I still own nothing from Revolution. Still wanting David Lyons though...**

* * *

They had a lot to get done before the gang split up to head off in separate directions. By tomorrow, their little group would be heading east, west, and north, with Gene returning discreetly to Austin to keep a covert eye on Blanchard. Rachel had fought it, wanting him to come along, to stay away from the Patriots, but he insisted he'd be safe and that they needed eyes and ears in Texas. Miles also figured that too much traveling would be hard on her father; since Marion's death, the man had aged a decade.

Rachel and Charlie had gone into the closest little town to gather supplies for their journey. Miles really couldn't wait to get underway. After all the sci-fi mumbo-jumbo crap Aaron had spilled last night, he really just wanted to get on a horse and ride for hours. Preferably in the opposite direction of the way Aaron and Priscilla were heading. Thank God he, Rachel, and Charlie were headed east.

He was prepping the wagon for their trip when Bass approached. "They know to get two wagons, right?"

"Yeah, Bass, they know. One for you and one for Aaron and Priscilla."

Miles cast a glance over at the portly man and the frail woman. They were heading into Idaho, to some town called Bradbury. Oh, what the hell did he know; he'd barely understood a word that came out of Aaron's mouth last night. He'd wait until he could get Rachel alone so she could explain it to him in layman's terms.

"Do you think there's really a threat from these Nanite things Stay-Puft was talking about?"

"I don't know, Bass."

"I'm not even sure I understand what he was talking about."

They exchanged a look, and he felt infinitely better. Bass had always been smarter than him, at least as far as book knowledge went. His best friend could have easily gotten into college, if he hadn't decided to follow Miles into the Marines. At one point he'd felt bad about that, like he was keeping Bass away from things he could have accomplished. But the longer they'd been in the military, the happier he'd been to have his brother at his side.

"I **know** I didn't understand what he was talking about," Miles said.

"Of course you didn't, you troglodyte." Another look, blue eyes on brown, and they burst into laughter. "Do you even know what that word means?"

"Shut up, asshole." But the words were affectionate. It was seriously great to have Bass back. God, he'd missed the hell out of his best friend, and it was wonderful not to have him buried under General Monroe any longer.

"You told him, right? Six months and we all meet up again, no matter what happens."

"Yeah, I told him. You worried about Aaron now, buddy?" Miles smirked. "I thought you thought he was a pain in the ass. Not worth dying over."

Bass shrugged. "Can't exactly go wasting the friends I have left, can I?"

He nodded. Bass had already lost Connor, and all that remained was the little family they'd made. "Aaron says that they just need to see what's going on up there. Bradbury, he said. Apparently, Priscilla keeps having nightmares about it."

"Yeah," Bass murmured. "Nightmares I can understand."

They never talked about it, but he knew Philly, thoughts of Philly being leveled by nukes, still plagued Bass. "Well, he said they'd do some recon on it and then head to the rendezvous point."

"Recon?" Monroe scoffed. "You do realize in about six months we're going to be saving their asses from HAL9000 up there."

Yeah, that sci-fi reference he got. "If these little machines have truly turned evil, how are we going to fight that? You and I, we fight people. I don't understand something coming out of the X-Files. I got nothing. That fight's up to Aaron, Rachel, and Priscilla. We have to concentrate on this. Especially after Marion's warning about reinforcements. We gotta get troops and go after the Patriots."

"Yeah, remind me again why I'm the one going west and you're going after my militia?"

"They're not your militia anymore," he snapped. "And...the last time you saw any militia troops, they shot at you."

Bass cocked an eyebrow. "There is that. But that was all Neville's fault, the son of a bitch."

He steered the conversation away from Tom; thinking on it inevitably brought up Connor, and that wound was still too raw for Monroe. "Anyway, think of it as a vacation. At one time, California was beautiful."

"Before they had an insane dictator take over everything." Bass seemed to catch the irony in his own words. He rolled his eyes at Miles's smile. "Yeah, yeah, shut up. Whatever."

"California liked you once upon a time."

"Oh, right, before I turned Affleck down from all her advances. The woman wanted me to marry her to expand our empires."

"Well, you could have-"

"She was already married, the crazy psycho! The Republic never condoned polygamy, what the hell do you think would have happened if the President ended up in that kind of marriage? We wouldn't have needed rebels to take us down." Bass shook his head. "Plus, she was, like, 150 years old a decade ago."

"She was not 150. And age was never an issue for you."

"She was 150 and looked like a creature from the Dark Crystal!" Monroe shouted. Aaron looked over at them before shaking his head and going back to packing. "And I like younger women."

And that was the lead-in he'd been waiting for. Miles was a little nervous over where this was going to go. He kept praying that he wouldn't have to kill his best friend for real this time. But just that morning, he woke before everyone else and saw the two of them sleeping, his niece's head perilously close to Bass's shoulder. It had pissed him right off. And he'd been holding it in all day.

"So...speaking about younger women..." He hauled off and punched Bass in the face. Aaron popped up and started over to them. Miles stopped him with just a finger.

It wasn't a hard punch, and he knew he hadn't particularly hurt Bass; the truth was they hit each other harder while training. He just wanted to make a point.

Monroe glared at him, wiping at his face. A tiny bit of blood came away from a cut on his left cheek. "What the hell was that for?"

"What the hell did you do to her, you son of a bitch?" Bass crinkled his eyes, confusion evident. "I asked you when you first came to Willoughby with her what you did to her, and you told me nothing."

A light dawned in his best friend's eyes, making them even brighter than usual. "I didn't do anything to her."

"You did something. I woke up and found her leaning into you in her sleep. And you weren't exactly backing away."

"I didn't touch her, I swear."

Miles studied his brother. And found something he didn't like behind those baby blues. "No, you...you did something worse, didn't you? You turned on the charm. You bastard, you charmed her."

"Oh, Jesus Christ, Miles. What am I, a wizard?"

"You did that thing that you do that women love. That thing you have that women fall for all the time. You turned it on my niece." He was really getting fired up now.

"I did not." Bass looked away. Oh, hell, if that wasn't a guilty response. "I never did that."

"Well, you did something to her."

"I talked to her!" Monroe's calm demeanor finally broke. "We were on the road, Miles. We were bored out of our minds. I was honest with her, something she seemed to be lacking a bit from her family. Honesty. I opened up to her...like I haven't opened up to anyone not named 'Miles' in a long time. Or since, at least..."

"Shelly." His heart slammed in chest. Bass hadn't spoken about anyone that way since Shelly. Damn it. "Oh, you son of bitch, it's worse."

"What are you talking about?"

"You fell in love with her."

"Miles..."

"You fell in love with her." He was going to have to do it. Murdering his best friend was the only way to stop this. "When you charm women, they adore you. When you fall in love with them, they love you back like you're...the second-coming, like you're the best thing to ever walk on the face of the earth. They love you back with all of their hearts. Did you do that to my niece?"

"I..."

"Jesus, Bass." He stared at his brother; he understood Bass's charm more than just about anyone. Their relationship was completely platonic, but he really did love the son of a bitch. If he'd been gay, he probably **would** have fallen for the jackass. As it was, they both were only into women. And Bass loved women to a fault. But none of those women had ever been Charlie before. This was just all sorts of bad. "Do you love her?"

He steeled himself, waiting for a lie to pop out of his best friend's mouth. He was surprised when he heard the truth. "I love her more than I've ever loved anyone. In my life. Ever."

"Are you joking me?"

"No, I'm dead serious." Bass's face was solemn. "I've never loved anyone like this. Not like this."

"Cripe, you talk about her the way I talk about..."

"The way you talk about Rachel?" Monroe chuckled. "Yeah. She's my Rachel, Miles. Charlie is **my** Rachel."

"Christ, man."

"Are you surprised, really? You know me and the Mathesons. Are you shocked that the love of my life is a Matheson?"

He looked so damn sincere; it killed Miles to say what he had to. "All right, I don't want to be, but I have to be an insensitive dick here, Bass. You love her. The women that you love die."

"Jesus, Miles."

"I warned you. Insensitive dick mode. I prefaced the last sentence with that." Bass shook his head. "This girl. This girl is like my...daughter."

"Yeah, that's a good question. Is she?" He could tell Monroe was getting as pissy as he felt.

"No, she's not."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. I asked." Bass just stared at him, those fiery blue eyes drilling into him. "Rachel wouldn't have lied, not about that."

"Kay." They'd drop the subject. Both would consider it closed.

"She's not my kid, Bass, but if I were to have a kid, I'd want it to be her. Apparently, she inherited all those traits from my grandfather."

"Oh, hell." Bass frowned. "I remember he was a tough-ass son of a bitch. But I could actually see that in Charlie. Danny must have been more like Ben. Like your grandma."

"Probably," Miles said. "I didn't have a lot of time with the kid."

His best friend looked away. He knew that was a sore spot for Bass, but he wasn't the one he needed to make amends with over Danny. "I'm sorry for that."

"Yeah, I know." He didn't want to hurt his best friend anymore than he had to, but this wasn't about Bass. It was about Charlie. There wasn't a lot he wouldn't do for the kid, including cause pain to someone else he loved. "Still in dick mode. Two women you loved have died. Shelly was not your fault. But Emma most certainly was."

"First off, do you really think I would hurt Charlie? Do you really still think that little of me, brother, because I thought we kind of made up back there? You know, after we killed each other."

"Bass..."

"You think I wouldn't lay down my life for her, Miles, cause I would. I've killed for her. I most certainly would die for her. That's first. Second...fuck you, Miles." He could see the tears forming in Monroe's eyes. "I would have given anything to take Shelly's place."

He sighed. "Yeah, I know. I just...it's Charlie."

"Yeah, I understand that, so I'm giving you a pass on what you said. Meaning, I won't knock your block off." His brother breathed deeply. He had often ribbed Bass about it, but it had always been his calming mechanism. "But like you said, Shelly wasn't my fault, so here's this. I'm not planning on getting Charlie pregnant anytime soon. Since we're not even in the initial stages of the relationship, I don't see it happening. But if we ever got to that point and we did decide to have kids, how anal retentive do you think I'd be about it?"

He swallowed thickly. He really didn't want to think about his best friend and his niece even being in a position to have a child. Or in any position at all. Oh, God, just drop the entire line of thought. "I get it."

"Do you?" Wow, he'd really pissed Bass off. "She'd probably kill me by the end of it because I'd probably chain her to the bed. And I'd have every doctor within a hundred mile radius at her disposal 24/7. But we're not really at that point yet."

"Thank God," he muttered.

Bass ignored him. "And if you think I'm just going to drag her into a firefight-"

Miles chuckled. "Yeah?"

"Yeah, all right, that's probably gonna happen. But not because I want it to. It'll be because she bowled me over to get into the action," Bass said. "And of course I would protect her, not that she needs me. The girl's the finest damn fighter I've seen since...you."

There was silence as they stared at one another.

"All right, so you love her." He didn't want to budge an inch on this, but the emotions radiating off Bass were practically off the charts. It was obvious his best friend was in love. With his damn niece. Yeeuck...

"Yeah, I do."

"Like love of your life, love her."

"Yeah."

"So what are you going to do about it?"

"Nothing."

Miles was stunned. "What?"

"I'm not doing anything, Miles. Because it's up to her. You know that I love her...she doesn't. She hasn't asked because she doesn't want to know. She's not at that point yet." Bass sighed. "So I'm not doing anything until she makes the decision."

He would rather shoot himself in the foot than say the words that were about to come out of his mouth. But he loved both of these idiots, so... "She loves you, too."

"Yeah, well, I don't know that."

"Bass, yes you do." He'd spent enough time with Charlie to see the way she was suddenly acting. He wasn't stupid enough to think that it wasn't directly related to his best friend. Bass wasn't either.

"It's up to her to tell me when she's ready to tell me. So until that point, I'm doing nothing other than being there for her, being her friend. She's calling all the shots here, Miles. I am here when she needs me, whenever she needs me." When his brother started talking about being friends with a woman, he was really lost. Miles hated this, but there was no stopping the Charlie and Bass train now. "You know this about me. You know how fierce I am about defending the people I love."

He couldn't fault Bass there. "Yeah, I know."

"And I'm not that guy who dragged Emma into that shootout, not anymore." Monroe poked him in the shoulder. "You know why? Because of her. Yeah, brother, you know, I wanted your forgiveness, I did. But I changed for her, because of her. Because Charlie saw something in me, and she brought it out. And, Jesus, if anybody can understand that it should be you."

He did know. Charlie had done the same thing for him. Of course, he'd ended up wanting her to be his daughter, not wanting to suck face with her. Oh, Christ, he didn't even like having that thought. How the hell was he going to deal with Bass and Charlie...

"She saw through all the shit, Miles, and she pulled out the good part of you. The part of you that existed before the Blackout. And guess what she did for me?"

"Yeah, but I didn't fall in love with her."

"Like hell you didn't." If Bass even suggested he thought of Charlie that way, he'd throttle him right here. "You fell in love with her the way any father falls for their little girl. She's become your daughter, Miles. Even if it's not biological."

His brother was right. He actually couldn't deny that he felt that way about Charlie. He loved her with all his heart, just in a completely different way from Bass. "I know."

"Do you know how grateful I am to her? She not only stopped the darkness inside me, she pushed it back. She made me realize that the only reason I ever thought about regaining the Republic was because of Connor. She's made everything in my life better. And I'm not about to give her up now."

Yeah, but while Bass was westward bound, Charlie was heading east. At least her mother thought she was. "You know, Rachel assumes Charlie's coming with us."

Bass nodded.

"Have you asked Charlie what she wants yet?" Miles asked.

"No."

Jesus, did he have to play matchmaker now for these two? Because he'd really rather cut off his pinkie finger than throw these idiots into a relationship. The thought of them being intimate gave him the shakes. Miles sighed. "Well, dickhead, although I appreciate the fact that you respect her enough to let her make the first move, you should maybe at least tell her you want her to come with you. With the way you two hem and haw, you'll be separated and miserable before either one of you decides to come clean, so..."

Bass raised an eyebrow. "Are you giving me relationship advice on Charlie now?"

"Ehhhh..." He raised his hands in protest of hearing anything else related to Bass and Charlie. "I hate this whole idea, Bass. I mean I really hate it."

"Yeah, I get it, brother." His best friend frowned. "She slept with Connor. How do you think I feel?"

"No...enough...no more. I don't want to hear any of this soap opera shit where my niece is concerned, all right?" He shuddered. "You're too old for her. You led a Republic that cost her half her family. And you have a tendency to go insane when you lose people you love."

"You think I haven't thought of those things?"

Miles's expression softened. "Well, think about this. Your age makes you mature enough for a young woman who grew up too fast. Leading the Republic means you're the only other man qualified enough to protect her. And your penchant for the crazy means you're fiercely loyal. Charlie, the Charlie that came to find me in Chicago, she was suited for a young man like Jason. The Charlie who walked out of that tower a year ago outgrew him. And the Charlie that I see now, well, she just may be your soul-mate, Bass."

The last time he remembered seeing Bass look at him so gratefully was when he'd found him at his family's gravesite, and he'd reminded him he wasn't alone. "Miles..."

"I love you two morons, so I guess it's up to me to make sure you get it right." His brother chuckled. "But Bass, if you fuck this up, I really will kill you."

* * *

She got back close to four in the afternoon, her and Rachel each driving a small wagon with a few horses. One was meant to be for Aaron and Priscilla's trek north to Idaho. And the other was meant for Bass, for his solo journey to California. It was expected that she head east with her mother and Miles. As much as she loved her uncle, the idea of Rachel and her in close quarters for six months was frightening. Going back to Austin with her grandfather seemed less daunting.

But she didn't want to go with either of them. She wanted to go with him. With Bass. She just wasn't sure how to ask or how to even approach the subject with him really. They'd fallen asleep near each other last night, but he hadn't touched her. Which was understandable with her mother and Miles so close.

But the truth was she had no idea where she stood with him at all.

They'd talked at the lake, and he'd opened up to her, even more than he had on the road, more than she'd ever expected him to. And they'd cried together. And flirted. But she still didn't know what he really felt for her. Neither one of them had revealed any deeper feelings for the other, so it might be just as much her fault, but damn it, she was scared.

Which was stupid. She wanted things; she took them. She'd wanted Connor, so she'd jumped him. It should have been that easy with Bass. But it wasn't because...because Bass meant more. And she really didn't want to screw this one up. They'd both been hurt too many times.

But she couldn't have been misreading all those signals he sent her way, could she? The way he looked at her when he thought no one was around had to mean something. She got shivers just thinking about his electric blue eyes roving over her.

Damn it, hadn't they forged something together at the lake? Why was she being such a wimp?

And what if she told the rest of the group she wanted to go with Bass? Shit, imagine the fit her mother would throw then. Rachel would handle it better if she said she wanted to go with Aaron. In fact, her mom probably wouldn't even bat an eyelash over that one. But Bass. As nice as Rachel was being to him, it was a tenuous truce at best. Him sweeping her daughter away to the west coast might shatter the fragile peace.

She pulled the wagon up next to the barn, her eyes seeking out Monroe. She didn't see him, but she noticed Miles sitting next to the campfire they'd started right before breakfast. Her stomach rumbled, and she realized it was nearly time for dinner. It had taken them long enough to procure all the provisions they'd needed.

She turned back towards her mother and found her speaking to Aaron. Looking at Miles, she headed over to him. There was something she needed to say to him anyway.

Plopping down across from him, she focused all her attention on her uncle. He glanced up at her and found her eyes on him. His face went from confused to almost embarrassed.

"What?" he asked.

"Six months is a long time."

"For what?"

"Two people to get to know each other again," she said. His eyes narrowed at her. "I think you and my mom should give it a shot. A real one."

He tilted his head. "Give what a shot?"

"Don't be an idiot. Look, I wish things could have been different for me and Jason, and now I'll never get the chance to make things right with him." She loved Bass; she really did. But she would have at least liked to make her peace with Jason.

"Jason, huh?"

Stop trying to divert attention, Miles. "You love her. She loves you. It's kind of an open secret. You guys deserve to run off and be happy together. I'm glad it's you, Miles. I want it to be you."

God, the way he looked at her. She loved him as much as she'd loved her dad. After losing Ben, she couldn't have asked for a better father than Miles Matheson. "Charlie, I..."

"I love you, Miles."

"Aw, kiddo. I love you, too." He stood up, stepped over to her and hugged her. She put her arms around him and sighed; Miles could be so stingy with hugs, so she liked to savor them when he gave one out. She heard him huff out a deep breath. "But you know, your mom and I, we could probably use some time alone. If we really want to give it a shot."

She pulled back, looking up at him, his arms still loosely around her. "You don't want me to come?"

"I didn't say that. You're welcome with us anytime, Charlie. You know that." He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I'm just saying that, there are other convoys leaving tomorrow, if you wanted to choose one. There's an extra horse if you want to ride back with Gene. And Aaron and Priscilla could easily fit you in if you wanted to head north."

She chuckled. Yeah, all sorts of options, except the one she wanted.

"And you know...Bass doesn't actually have anyone going with him..." She gaped at him. Did he really just suggest she go with Monroe? "Before the Blackout, California was nice. Might still be."

She caught his eye and she knew. **He** knew. How he'd figured it out, she wasn't sure, but he knew how much she wanted to go with Bass. Maybe he even knew how she felt about his best friend.

The only problem was she wasn't sure if Bass wanted her to go. "And I'm so sure Monroe wants me tagging along."

"Well, Charlie, why don't you just ask him?" Miles smiled and nodded across the yard to his friend. "I seem to recall you getting an invite to New Vegas."

Yeah, that had worked out so well. She'd slept with Connor and nearly ruined everything. But Miles was right. Monroe had actually asked her to come along with him and his son.

"Go on, kid. I'll distract your mom for a while." He smirked at her. Damn it, he did know. And he wasn't fighting her on it. Would wonders never cease?

She turned to Bass. He lingered by the barn, leaning against the side as if he didn't have a care in the world, but his eyes were on her. Without making any motions or signals, he was willing her over. Well, they did have to talk. There was still something she had to share with him. One final secret from the last night in Willoughby that she hadn't yet spilled.

* * *

She strolled over to him, beautiful in the sunlight, and his heart tripped. He was so gone on this tiny little girl. Check that, tiny little fierce-ass warrior woman. How had he lost his heart to her so easily?

She stopped in front of him, her sharp blue eyes locked on his. "Didn't see you when I first got back."

"I was getting things together. Packing," he said.

"For the big trip."

"Right." So they were just going to dance around the huge elephant? What was it about her that turned him into a teenager asking for a first date? Actually, he hadn't been as nervous asking girls out back then. And he was so far removed from that kid in high school anyway. But Charlie just played havoc on his entire system.

Jesus, he should just grab her and kiss her. But he'd told Miles he was holding back. Letting her make the first move. And for her sake, he was sticking to that. "How was town?"

"Nothing special." She smiled, seeming to realize they were both avoiding any serious topics. "Can I talk to you though? Not here."

"Yeah, sure." With a quick glance at Rachel, who Miles seemed to have preoccupied, he led Charlie into the nearby woods. He had things he needed to ask her himself. Finding a small clearing, he turned to her.

She seemed to be bracing herself to speak. He wasn't sure whether to be anxious or scared. "There's something I have to...to tell you."

Well, that sounded ominous. A sinking feeling was settling in his heart. "Okay."

"I'm not sure how to say it. So, I'm just going to come right out and say it." God, this wasn't happening. She wasn't telling him it was over before it began, was she? And, Jesus, weren't his paranoid days behind him? "I saw Connor."

He blinked, that was the last thing he'd expected. "Connor? When?"

"In Willoughby. As I was sneaking out after shooting the President." She reached for his hand. "He saw you and Miles shoot each other."

"Wha-what did he say?"

_She was chuckling as she walked towards the secret side access into town. She didn't stop to look at the events playing out in front of the President's office, but she could hear her mother's cries. Even though it was all pretend, she really had no desire to see her uncle and Bass lying on the ground, faking death. It was something she could too easily imagine seeing in real life. _

_She was almost to the entrance gate when she noticed him. He must have crept into Willoughby while the town was so unprotected. He stood there, still as a statue, his eyes riveted on the scene a few yards away. She didn't have a lot of time to linger, but for Bass's sake, she needed to at least speak to him._

_"Connor?" She tiptoed over to him, breaking his concentration. He looked at her, his eyes harder than she ever remembered seeing his father's. _

_"So they did it. They killed one another."_

_How could she tell him what had really happened? He'd betrayed his father and disappeared with Tom Neville. There was no doubt in her mind that she couldn't trust him. But her love for Bass insisted that she try. She stepped up to him, and wrapped her arms around him, hugging him. "I'm so sorry. Things got out of control with them. Things just always got out of control with them."_

_He resisted, barely patting her on the back before pulling away. "So now I really have nothing. Not that the son of a bitch was going to get me the Republic back anyway."_

_That damned Republic. How she hated it for all it had done and all it had taken away. From all of them. She reached out for his hand. "Maybe you don't need the Republic, Connor. Maybe all you need is family."_

_"My father is dead."_

_"You could still come with us. With the rest of us."_

_"No thanks. Living in some shitty little town with some screwed up family, not really my thing. I could have had that in Mexico." He pulled his hand away. _

_He was angry, and he was hurt, and she could tell he really wanted nothing to do with any of them. But for Bass she had to throw out at least one more bone. "What if your father wasn't really dead? What if you had another chance?"_

_He scoffed. "Christ, Charlie, what are we kids? They're dead."_

_She couldn't tell him. God help her, she just didn't trust him enough. "Well, what would you say to him if you could?"_

_"I'd say good riddance. I should have shot him when he tried to leave with you and Miles."_

_The disgust she felt for this little shit reached an all time high. "He came back for you. To look for you."_

_"Yeah, what did he expect me to do? Sit around and wait for Mr. Hero to come back, offering me more excuses and more promises he was never going to deliver on. I don't need him to get the Republic back. I'll do it on my own."_

_"With Tom Neville?" she asked, her voice hard._

_"A man like Neville is worth twelve Monroe's. He's not afraid to do what it takes."_

_God, this idiot was so deluded. How did this kid ever spring from Monroe's loins? At least Bass had always understood the value of family. "You're so wrong."_

_"Yeah, Charlie, too bad you don't have a shot now, since my old man is dead." She glared at him. "Yeah, I know you wanted him. Hell, you wanted him in New Vegas, but I just seemed like the safer bet, right?"_

_"You son of a bitch." She wished she could take that entire night back. She wished she could have been brave enough to confront the only Monroe she wanted. _

_"Whatever. Without that bastard to drag me down, I'm going to get that Republic back, and I'm going to rule it. I'm glad he's gone. Now I don't have to pretend to give a shit about a man I never knew."_

_"That wasn't his fault."_

_"I don't care. I left my entire life behind, and I got nothing to show for it. This is over."_

_He turned without another word and walked away_.

"Bass?"

"So that's it then." He closed his eyes. "He's glad I'm dead."

"I think he was hurting. I think he's confused. And I thought he would have realized I wasn't as upset as I should have been if the two of you were really dead. I think he didn't want to know-"

"Oh, Charlie. You really do want to see the best in everyone." He sighed. Letting go of his son was going to be one of the hardest things he would ever do. "But I can't go back for him. It's done. I love him, and I always will. But I have to move on, and hope that one day, maybe...I can find him again. And just hope we're not on opposite sides of a gun. I guess I understand now, how it was for your uncle."

Tears filled her eyes. "I'm sorry, Bass. I tried, I really did. I offered for him to come with my family. But he didn't want to listen."

"I know you did. And it's not your fault, none of it is." He placed his hands on her shoulders; she was crying on his behalf yet again. God, he loved her. "Thank you. Thank you for even trying."

She swiped at her eyes with the sleeve of her jacket. "I'm sorry we haven't gotten to talk since Willoughby."

"Me, too." There were things he wanted to say, but his mind felt so scattered after the news of his son, and all the emotions she was causing inside him. His hands slid down her arms and grabbed hers, pulling her along to sit down by him as they leaned back against a large oak tree. "So everything went okay? With the President?"

"It went well. I wonder how long it took before they found him."

"Don't know. But we got away, so..."

"Yeah, we did." She looked at him. "Bass, I wanted to ask, when Marion mentioned reinforcements, I couldn't imagine where they might have come from. But you seemed to have an idea."

He turned to her, and their eyes met. "When these Patriots went into hiding in Cuba, they were members of the U.S. government. So my thought was where are government guys going to get a bunch of soldiers? And the only answer I could think of was the army. The United States Army."

Charlie gasped. "You think the troops coming up from South America are U.S. military forces?"

"It's the only thing that makes sense. Where does one get a ready-made army, unless they already have one? That's another reason we need trained soldiers to get this done."

"And Miles agrees?" Of course she would assume he told her uncle. Which he had. She knew them both so well.

"He does. Charlie, when the Blackout happened, Miles and I were on base. And there was just...nothing. No messages, no missions, no orders. We waited for six months before realizing there was no one in charge anymore. So in that time, where did the entire government go?"

"Cuba."

He nodded. "I think they took troops and sent them to South America, and then hid themselves in Cuba, waiting for the time they could come back. They waited for us to set up militias, republics, federations, and then just destroy each other. Then they swooped back in."

"We need forces then." She leaned her head back against the tree and turned it towards him again. "Do you think California will help?"

He chuckled. "I don't know. I'm going to try."

"Well, just turn on the charm. It always works." She smiled at him.

"Governor Affleck is a scary old woman."

"Or not." They laughed. God, this was idiotic. They were both avoiding anything but small talk. Not that he didn't like just chatting with her. He could just talk and laugh with her and be happy. But she was one day away from riding off with her mother and Miles, leaving him alone and without her company for the next six months. There were other things they needed to discuss.

Well, no guts no glory. "Charlie-"

"Bass-" They laughed as they spoke over each other. "You go first."

"No, you," he said.

"I just wanted to...I just wanted to apologize again." Her icy blue eyes locked on him. "For everything."

"Charlie, you don't have to-"

She pressed a finger against his lips. "No, I do. I know we had this big plan, and I know it required us to turn against you, but Bass, it went too far. You got hurt. I could see it. When we shut you out of that gas station, I know you were pretending...but I also know it wasn't completely an act. I never wanted it to come to that."

"I know, Charlie." He pressed a hand to her cheek. "But thank you for caring about me anyway."

"When you left, I was so worried." He stroked her jaw with his fingers. He could see the pain in her eyes, pain for him. "I was worried that something would go terribly wrong. And the last thing that would be between us, between all of us, was you on the outside. After Jason...I never got to make up with him, and I couldn't bear the thought of things ending that way with you."

Two thick, hot tears fell down her face. "Charlie, it was hard. I won't lie to you. It hurt, so much more than I thought it would. But I knew deep inside that it was necessary. And I probably even deserved it-"

"No-"

"Yes." God, how far had they come that she went from wanting him dead to defending him. To not even wanting cruel words to touch him. He entwined their fingers, bringing her hand up and kissing the back of it. "We did what we had to do, and we survived. I don't blame any of you for it. Least of all you, Charlie."

"But you looked so upset when you left. I hated you being away from all of us. I hated it. You're a part of our family. You're part..." She choked back a sob, and he pulled her close, wrapping his arms tightly around her. My God, she was twisting his heart around her little finger with absolutely no effort whatsoever. She worried about him; she considered him part of her family. In the last 10 years, the only other person he could remember who cared about him even half that much was Miles.

He stroked her hair. "Charlie. I hated walking away from you, from all of you. And it ripped at me to have to be against Miles again. To have to hurt him, to have to hurt all of you. But we had no choice. It's over now. We're together again."

She pulled away and gazed up at him; he brushed away the remnants of her tears. "We're together for now. Till tomorrow."

"Yeah." Ok, here was his chance. Ask her dickhead. Ask! "I, uh..."

Her eyes never left his. "Bass?"

"I'm sorry I let Neville threaten you. I was ready to kill him, Charlie. I would have broken cover to keep you safe." Shit, he was such a pussy. A very familiar sad little smile graced her face. "You knew I wouldn't let him hurt you, right?"

"Yeah, I knew. I know. You're always there when I need you, Monroe."

What the...Monroe? When did that name come back? What the hell did he do? "I always will be."

She nodded, pulling away from him and standing up. "We have a lot of packing to do. We should probably get back."

What the hell was happening here? She'd gone from hot to cold in about three seconds. "Charlie, I-"

"You have a long trip ahead of you, to California." She turned and walked away. He stood there, stunned and speechless. He was rarely speechless.

They'd been talking and cuddling, and he'd been about to ask her to come with him. But then he'd wussed out and brought up Neville instead. Then she just up and ran out like he'd grown a third eye in the middle of his forehead.

Eyes. She'd been looking into his eyes when he'd abandoned his original train of thought. They held entire conversations without ever opening their mouths, which meant she knew what he was thinking. She must have seen the question in his eyes and then saw him choose not to ask it. Hell, did she seriously think he didn't want her with him?

He ran after her, grabbing her arm to stop her before they neared the barn and the rest of their group. "Charlie, wait..."

She spun around; she didn't seem angry, but she didn't seem really happy either. "What?"

"I was wondering if...I wondered if..." Great time to sound like a 13-year-old idiot, dumb-ass. Talking to women was easy for him; he had conquests under his belt that stretched back longer than she was born. Wonderful, that's a fantastic topic to bring up right now. So why was this so hard? Because her answer could affect the rest of his life. "I thought maybe...look California's a rough place."

"I get it, okay. You go do your thing...I'll do mine. I'll see you in six months." She scoffed, ripping her arm away from him and walking away again.

"Charlie!" His shout stopped her in her tracks, and he moved to stand directly in front of her. "What I was going to say was that California is a rough place. It's also quite a long trip and rather lonely. It would be nice to have a traveling companion."

"Do you want me to ask Miles for you?" There was a smile hidden behind the cocky look. "Cause I think he wants to go with my mother."

Smart ass. "Charlie...come."

"Where?"

She was not going to make this easy for him. "Charlotte, come to California with me."

The smile broke through, blinding him in its brilliance. "Okay, Bass."

He grinned and knew the wattage of it match hers. He yanked her into his arms and hugged her, kissing the top of her head. It still wasn't a declaration of love, and he still wasn't sure she was ready for that. But she wanted to go with him, that much was obvious. And for right now, he could live with that.

* * *

She was relaxing by the fire when Rachel dropped down next to her. "So...Miles tells me you're not coming with us."

Oh, boy. This was all she needed. "Mom..."

"You're going to California...with Monroe." The tone wasn't angry, but there was an edge to it.

"I thought you forgave him."

Rachel crossed her arms and shook her head. "I haven't forgiven him for everything, Charlie."

"Look, Mom..." She so did not want to have this argument on their last night together.

"I know you've become...friends with him." God, could she get lucky enough that her mother thought that was all she felt for the man? "But I don't want you to think that Miles and I don't want you to come with us."

Huh? "Um, I don't think that."

"Miles told me what you said to him. About he and I giving it a chance." Rachel sighed. "I did love your father, Charlie."

"Just not the way you love Miles." She could understand that. She'd loved Jason, just not the way she loved Bass.

Rachel reached out a hand and placed it on Charlie's head, stroking her hair. "I admit it would be nice to spend time with him, but you are my daughter, and you're welcome to come with us. Honey, Miles loves you as much as I do."

She smiled. "Yeah, I know that, Mom. But I think the two of you should be alone for a bit. I know this is a working vacation, but there has to be some fun time on it, right? You and Miles deserve that."

"Yeah, I suppose."

"Then enjoy it together." She glanced at Bass across the yard; he was discussing something with her uncle, and eyeing her as discreetly as he could. "And don't worry about me. I want to see the ocean. Just go be with Miles."

"I hope someday you love someone as much as I love Miles." Well, looked like that little tidbit of information was still safe. So Miles hadn't spilled the secret he'd discovered. Talk about loving her enough to cover for her. She'd have to thank her uncle.

"Yeah, that'd be great." There was no way she was breaking that kind of news to her mother tonight.

Rachel stood, her gaze traveling over to Miles and Monroe. "Just be careful."

Jesus, her mother was going to let her go with Bass, without any kind of recriminations or fuss. "Mom, in spite of what you may think of him, Monroe will look out for me. He's saved my life before."

"I know. He's kept good on his promise."

His promise? "His what?"

"He promised me in the Tower that he wouldn't let another one of my children die. He swore to me he'd keep you safe." Rachel glanced down at her. "Do you need a blanket, Honey? You look like you might be shivering."

Only the once, when the shudder ran through her at the thought that everything he'd done for her was because of a promise he made her mother. It couldn't be that.

"Charlie?"

"I'm fine, Mom." She caught his eye again. It wasn't about her mother; it was about her. Wasn't it?

* * *

She stood there as the sun rose, preparing to say goodbye to the people who mattered most in her life. Her family. Aaron and Priscilla had left 20 minutes ago. Her grandfather had ridden off 10 minutes after that. Her mother still had tears streaming down her face from their goodbye. Charlie hadn't fared much better. Gene was old, and he was heading back into enemy territory. Anything could happen to him before the six months was up. She just had to pray that he would be all right.

While Monroe was securing the last of their gear on the wagon, Rachel and Miles stepped up to her.

"Well, kiddo...try to keep the stupid to a minimum." She smiled at his well-worn favorite line. "And try not to let him get into anymore trouble. I don't want to hear about a new Republic out there in the Wastelands before we meet up again."

"I promise that's not going to happen." She looked at her mother. "Mom."

Rachel swallowed thickly, reaching out and pulling Charlie into her arms. "Just please be careful. And please, stick close to Monroe."

She pulled away and eyed her mother. "You're actually recommending that I stay near Monroe?"

"I know you know how to fight, Charlie. But there are some places that are just so unsafe." Rachel sighed. "He may not be my favorite person, but he'll look after you. That much I know."

"Cause he promised you." Her mother nodded, but her uncle frowned. She glanced between them. "I want you two to be happy. Have fun with each other."

"We will."

"Uh, Rach, can I have a moment?" Her mother nodded and stepped away, crossing over to Monroe. Charlie exchanged a look with Miles.

"Should we be worried?"

"Nah, she's probably just going to threaten him with bodily harm if he lets anything happen to you."

"Good to know." He pulled her into a big bear hug, and she relaxed into the comfort of her uncle's arms. God, she was really going to miss him. "Miles."

"Your mother's right. Stick close to him. He'll protect you." She nodded against his chest. He drew back a bit to look at her. "But not because of some promise he made Rachel."

"He promised her in the Tower he would save me."

Miles shook his head. "Yeah, Charlie, that might be why he saved you in the Tower. But that's not why anymore."

Her heart sped up. What was he saying? "I..."

"It's okay, kiddo. The two of you'll get it together when you're ready." He smiled at her, that little half-smile she associated only with him. "I love you, Charlie. You take care of each other."

"We will."

Her released her and stepped away. "See you in six months, kid."

"Yeah." She was seconds away from bursting into tears. Why was saying goodbye to Miles even harder than saying goodbye to her mother?

"Hey," he said. Her head popped up and she looked at him. "Six months. And then this little family gets itself back together."

She nodded, now unable to stop the tears from falling. "Yeah, right, our family."

"Right, and family sticks together." Once he would have mocked those words, but now she knew he meant them with all of his heart.

* * *

Loading another basket of food onto the back of their wagon, Monroe watched as Charlie hauled herself into the front. Then his eyes fell on his brother as he approached.

"Everything all right with Rachel?" Miles asked.

"Yeah." He glanced over to the woman who was crawling onto the front of her own wagon. "She just promised to castrate me if I let anything happen to her daughter. That and something about cutting off my hands and wearing them as a necklace. Something to that extent."

"Well, then I guess I'll just save all the threats I'd intended to make." They both chuckled. "Seriously, man, watch her."

"Like a hawk." He looked at his best friend. "Miles, get as many militia troops as you can. Some of them still have to be loyal. And we trained them well. If we have to fight the U.S. Army..."

"I know. And let's hope California's military is as good as they always bragged it was."

Bass scoffed. "Yeah."

"Don't lose yourself out there, Bass." His blue eyes met Miles's brown ones. God, it was good to be part of the Matheson family again. "I can't go through that again, brother. I can't."

Monroe turned his gaze to Charlie. "I won't. She's worth staying sane for."

"Yeah, take care of my niece. Bring her back safe and sound."

"I will."

"And maybe think about telling her how you feel."

"Miles..." He'd already explained all that to his best friend.

"I'm just saying, Bass. There are some things she needs to know." What the hell did that mean? Before he could ask, Miles wrapped and arm around him, pulling him into a hug, and patted him on the back. "Look out for each other. I love you both."

Then Miles stepped away and turned towards his own wagon. Six months was not that long. And yet, in their world, it was very long indeed. There was every possibility that one or several members of their gang wouldn't make it back.

"Miles." His best friend looked back at him. "Promise me after we fight the Patriots, we can just retire and do nothing."

His brother smiled. "We'd get bored as hell doing nothing, Bass. Trust me. I ran a bar for five years. Retirement sucks."

"Asshole."

"Dickhead."

"See you soon." Miles crawled onto the front of the wagon and got the horses moving. Rachel raised a hand to wave at her daughter as they pulled out onto the road heading east.

He jumped up onto the front of the wagon, positioning himself next to Charlie. "You ready?"

She pulled her eyes away from the road that her uncle and mother had just disappeared down. She was barely holding back the tears. "Tell me we'll see them again, Bass."

He hated to lie to her, whether she wanted him to or not. He covered her hand with his, his eyes locked on hers. "I can't make any promises, Charlie. But the Matheson family knows how to survive. I can promise that we will do everything in our power to meet up in six months. And I can promise that your uncle will do the same. How's that?"

"It'll have to do."

He squeezed her hand before letting go to take the reins. "Well, you ready for an adventure?"

She smiled at him. "Lead the way."

He clicked the reins and directed the horses away from the barn. The wagon rolled out onto the road, heading into the west, towards the sun. Every old movie he'd ever seen came flashing back to mind.

The woman he loved was by his side. And they were riding off into the sunset together.

**The End...for now...**


End file.
